LIBRARY 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA. 


Class 


THE 


LIFE,  TRAVELS,  AND  LITERARY  CAREER 


OF 


BAYARD  TAYLOR 


'Crown  Love,  crown  Truth  when  first  her  brow  appears, 
And  crown  the  hero  when  his  deeds  are  done  : 
The  Poet's  leaves  are  gathered  one  by  one, 
In  the  slow  process  of  the  doubtful  years, 
Who  seeks  too  eagerly,  he  shall  not  find  : 
Who  seeking  not  pursues  witli  single  mind 
Art's  lofty  aim,  to  him  will  she  accord. 
At  her  appointed  time,  the  sure  reward." 


RUSSELL   H.  CONWELL 


CHICAGO     NEW  YORK 
THE    WERNER    COMPANY 


LIBRARIAN'S  FUKD 

COPYRIGHT    iSSl 

BY  D.  LOTHROP  &  COMPANY 


COPYRIGHT    1895 

BY  THE  WERNER  COMPANY 

Taylor 


THE    MISTRESS    OF    MY     HOME. 


'.My  tears  were  on  the  pages  as  I  rear" 

The  touching  close:  I  made  the  story  mine. 
Within  whose  heart,  long  plighted  to  the  dead. 
Love  built  his  living  shrine." 

'  For  she  is  lost;  but  she,  the  later  oride, 

Who  came  my  ruined  fortune  to  restore; 
Back  from  the  desert  wanders  at  my  side, 
Aun  icitds  me  home  once  more." 

—Poet's  JournaJ 


217030 


PREFACE. 


It  is  a  solemn  yet  pleasant  duty  to  compile  in  comprehen 
sive  order  the  records  of  a  life  so  eventful  and  influential  as 
that  of  Bayard  Taylor.  Pleasant,  because  there  is  no  task 
more  satisfactory  than  that  of  recounting  the  deeds  of  a 
virtuous,  industrious,  heroic  life.  No  text-book  of  morals, 
or  of  general  history,  is  so  effective  in  educating  the  young 
as  the  annals  of  well-spent  years,  gathered  for  that  purpose. 
There  is  more  or  less  influence  in  fables  and  mythological 
tales ;  and  there  is  considerable  power  in  a  well  written, 
skilfully  plotted  work  of  fiction ;  but  the  direct  and  unavoid 
able  appeal  of  a  noble  life,  which  closed  with  honor  and 
deserved  renown,  is  far  more  potent  and  permanent  in  the 
culture  and  reformation  of  the  world,  than  all  other  forms  of 
intellectual  and  moral  quickening.  No  apology  is  needed 
for  writing  such  a  biography.  It  would  be  inexcusable  to 
leave  the  world  in  need  of  it.  While  it  may  not  serve  as 
well  as  the  author  desires  in  preserving  an  interest  in  Mr. 
Taylor's  writings,  and  in  presenting  to  the  American  people 
his  most  encouraging  example,  it  will  at  least  be  a  sincere 
tribute  to  Mr.  Taylor's  memory  from  the  writer,  who  in 
foreign  and  inhospitable  lands  recieved  from  him  most  gen 
erous  and  patient  assistance. 


6  PREFACE. 

The  author  cannot  do  less  than  acknowledge,  in  this 
place,  his  great  obligations  to  the.  father  and  mother  of  Mr. 
Taylor,  to  Mrs.  Annie  Carey,  his  sister,  and  to  Dr.  Franklin 
Taylor,  his  cousin,  for  their  generous  courtesy  and  most 
important  assistance  in  gathering  the  facts  for  this  volume. 

All  the  poetical  quotations  in  this  book  are  from  Taylor's 
poetical  works. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Mr.  Taylor's  Career. —  Difficulty  and  Importance  of  the  Wtrk.  — 
The  Romance  of  his  Life.  —  Variable  Experience.  —  His  Sriccesi 
as  Novelist,  Orator,  Traveller,  and  Poet,  .  .  .  .13 

CHAPTER  II. 

German  Ancestry.  —  English  Ancestry.  —  The  Pennsylvania  Ger 
mans.  —  The  Quakers.  —  How  his  Forefathers  came  to  America. 

—  The  Effect  of  Intermixture  of  Races.  — The  Hereditary  Traits 
seen  in  his  Books, .17 

CHAPTER  III. 

Birth  at  Kennett  Square.  —  Old  Homestead.  —  The  Quaker  Church. 
—The  Village.  —  His  Father's  Store.  —  Life  on  the  Farm.  —  Mis 
chievous  School-hoy. —  Inclination  to  write  Poetry.  —  Practical 
Joker.  —  Studious  Youth.  —  His  Parents.  —  His  Brothers  and 
Sisters, 21 

CHAPTER  IV. 

Unfitness  for  Farming.  —  Love  for  Books.  —  Goes  to  the  Academy. 

—  Appearance  as  a  Student.  —  Love  for  Geography  and  History. 

—  Enters  a  Printing-office.  —  Genius    for  Sketching.  —  Corre 
spondence  with  Literary  Men.  —  Their  Advice.  —  Hon.  Charles 
Miner.  —  Putnam's  Tourist  Guide.  —  Determination   to   go  to 
Europe.  — Dismal  Prospects, 29 

CHAPTER  V. 

Visited  by  his  Cousin.  — Decides  to  go  to  Europe  with  his  Cousin.  — 
Correspondence  with  Travellers.  —  Lack  of  Money.  —  Unshaken 
Confidence.  —  Publication  of  Ximena, 36 

CHAPTER  VI. 

The  Contest  with  Enemies.  —  Departure  from  Philadelphia.  — 
Friendship  of  N.  P.  Willis,  —  Discouraging  Reception.  —  Inter 
view  with  Horace  Greeley.  —  Searching  for  a  Vessel.  —  Steerage 
Passage  for  Liverpool.  —  Fellow  Passengers.  —  The  Voyage.  — 
The  Beauty  of  the  Sea.  —  Landing  at  Liverpool,  .  .  42 

CHAPTER  VII. 

Departure  from  Liverpool.  — Travels  Second-Class.  — Arrival  at  Port 
Rush. — The  Giant's  Causeway. — Lost  and  in  Danger.  —  Dun- 
luce  Castle.  —  Effect  upon  the  Travellers.  —  Condition  of  the 
Irish.  —  Arrival  at  Dumbarton.  —  Scaling  the  Castle  Walls. — 
Walk  to  Loch  Lomond.  —  Ascent  of  Ben  Lomond.  —  Loch 
Katrine.  —  Visit  to  Stirling,  .....  f  r  50 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

Visit  to  the  Home  of  Burns. — The  Poet's  Cottage.  —  The  Cele 
bration.  —  Walks  and  Rides  in  the  Rain.  —  Edinburgh.  —  Its 
Associations.  —  The  Teachings  of  History.  —  Home  of  Drum- 
niond.  —  Abbotsford.  —  Melrose.  —  Jedburgh  Abbey.  —  New- 
castle-ou-Tyne, 5'J 

CHAPTER  IX. 

V'sit  in  London.  —  Exhibition  of  Relics.  —  The  Lessons  of  Travel. 

—  Historical  Association.  —  London  to  Ostend. — The  Cathedral 
at  Aix-la-Chapelle. — The  Great  Cathedral  at  Cologne.  —  Voy 
age    up    the    Rhine.  —  Longfellow's    "  Hyperion."  —  Visit    to 
Frankfort.  —  Kind  Friends.  —  Reaches  Heidelberg.  —  Climbing 
the  Mountains, 6? 

CHAPTER  X. 

Study  in  Frankfort.  —  Lack  of  Money.  —  Different  Effect  ol  Want 
on  Travellers.  —  Bayard's  Pri rations.  —  Again  sets  out  on  Foot.  — 
Visit  to  the  Hartz  Mountains.  —  The  Brocken.  —  Scenes  in 
"Faust."  —  Locality  in  Literature.  —  The  Battle-field  at  Leip- 
sic. — Auerbach's  Cellar, 77 

CHAPTER  XL 

Pictures  at  Dresden.  —  Raphael's  Madonna.  —  Bayard's  Art  Educa- 
tion.  —  His  Exalted  Ideas  of  Art.  —  His  Enthusiasm.  —  Visits 
Bohemia.  —  Stay  iii  Prague.  —  The  Curiosities  of  Vienna. — 
Tomb  of  Beethoven.  —  Respect  for  Religion.  —  Listens  to 
Strauss.  —  View  of  Lintz.  —  Munich  and  its  Decorations.  —  The 
Home  of  Schiller.  —  Poetic  Landscapes,  and  Charming  People. 

—  Statue  by  Thorwaldsen.  —  Walk  to  Heidelberg,       .        .      85 

CHAPTER  XII. 

Starts  for  Switzerland  and  Italy.  —  First  View  of  the  Alps.  —  The 
Falls  of  the  Rhine.  —  Zurich.  —  A  Poet's  Home.  —  Lake  Lucerne. 

—  Goethe's  Cottage.  —  Scenes  in  the  Life  of  William  Tell.  - 
Ascent  of  the  Alps  at   St.   Gothard.  —  Descent  into  Italy.  — 
The  Cathedral  at  Milan.  —  Bayard's   Characteristics.  —  Tramp 
to  Genoa.  —  Visits  Leghorn  and  Pisa.  — Lovely  Florence.  — De 
lightful  Visits.  —  The  Home  of  Art,       95 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

Visit  to  Rome.  —  Attractions  of  its  Ruins.  —  Bayard's  Persistent 
Searches.  —  His  Limited  Means.  —  Sights  and  Experiences.  — 
Journey  to  Marseilles.  —  Walks  to  Lyons.  —  Desperate  Circum 
stances.  —  Stay  iu  Paris.  —  Employment  of  his  Time.  —  De 
parture  for  London.  —  Failure  to  obtain  Money  or  Work.  - 
Seeks  a  Friend.  —  Obtains  Help  from  a  Stranger.  —  Voyage  ;o 
New  York.  —  Arrival  Home,  .        .        .  .  .     ^.^5 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

Edits  a  Country  Newspaper.  —  The  "  Plicemxvilio  Pioneer  "  —  The 
Discouragements.  —  The  Suspension.  —  Publishes  "  Views 
Afoot."  —  Introduction  to  Literary  Men.  —  Contributes  to  the 
"  Literary  World."  —  Becomes  an  Editor  of  the  New  York 
"  Tribune."  —  The  Gold  Excitement  of  1849.  —  Resolves  to  visit 
the  Eldorado.  —  Arrival  in  California, lift 


CONTENTS.  9 

CHAPTER  XV. 

Entrance  to  California.  —  The  Camp  at  Sail  Francisco  in  1849. — 
Description  of  the  People. — Gold-Hunters.  —  Speculations. — 
Prices  of  Merchandise.  —  Visit  to  the  Diggings.  —  Adventures 
on  the  Route.  —  The  First  Election.  —  The  Constitutional  Con 
vention.  —  San  Francisco  after  Two  Months' Absence.  —  Poetical 
Descriptions.  —  Departure  for  Mexico.  —  Arrival  at  Mazatlan. 

—  Overland  to  the  Capital.  —  Adventure  with  Robbers.  —  Re 
turn  to  New  York, .        .120 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

The  Poet's  First  Love.  —  Playmates.  —  Miss  Mary  S.  Agnew.  —  His 
Fidelity.  —  Poems  Inspired  by  Affection.  —  Her  Failing  Health. 

—  Consumption.  —  His  Return  to  Her.  —  The  Marriage  at  the 
Death-bed.  —  Her  Death.  —  The  Poet's  Grief.  —  His  Inner  Life. 

—  The  Story  in  his  own  Rhyme,    . 133 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

Grief  and  Despair.  —  Describes  his  Feelings.  —  Failing  Health.  — 
Severe  Mental  Labor.  —  Decides  to  go  to  Africa.  —  Visits  Vien 
na.  —  Arrival  at  Alexandria. —  Sails  up  the  Nile.  —  Scenes  in 
Cairo.  —  The  Pyramids.  —  The  Lovely  Nile.  —  An  Important  and 
Pleasant  Acquaintance.  — A  Lasting  Friendship.  —  Learning  the 
Language. — Assuming  the  Costume. —  Sights  by  the  Way,  151 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Moslem  Worship.  —  Scenery  of  the  Nile.  —  Fellowship  with  the 
People.  —  The  Temple  of  Dendera.  —  Mr.  Taylor's  Enthusi 
asm.  —  Luxor.  —  Karnak.  —  The  Extent  of  Ancient  Thebes.  — 
The  Tombs  and  Statues. — The  Natives.  —  Arrives  at  Assouan. 

—  Th«    Island    of    Philse.  —  Separation    of    the     Friends.  — 
Starts  for  the  White  Nile.  —  Trip  through  the  Desert.  —  Again 
on  the  Nile.  —  Reception  by  the  People  and  Officials.  —  Visits 
Ancient  Meroe, 164 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

From  Meroe  to  Khartoum.  —  Twenty-seventh  Birth-clay.  —  Desire 
to  Explore  Central  Africa. — Ascent  of  the  White  Nile.  —  Ad 
venture  with  the  Savage  Shillooks.  —  Visits  the  Natives.  —  Re 
turn  to  Khartoum.  —  Crossing  the  Desert.  —  Parting  with 
Friends.  —  Descent  of  the  Nile.  —  Arrival  at  Cairo,  .  .  174 

CHAPTER  XX. 

Departure  from  Egypt.  —  A  Poet  in  Palestine.  —  Difference  in  Trav 
ellers.  —  Mr.  Taylor's  Appreciation.  —  First  View  of  lyre.  — 
Route  to  Jerusalem.  —  The  Holy  City.  —  Bath  in  the  Dead  Sea. 

—  Appearance  of  Jerusalem.  —  Samaria.  —  Looking  down  upon 
Damascus.  —  Life  in  the  eldest   City.  —  The  Bath.  —  Dose    of 
Hashish.  —  Being  a  Turk  among  Turks,        ....     lri$ 


10  CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER   XXI. 

Lcaviug  Damascus.  —  Arrival  at  Beyrout.  —  Trip  to  Aleppo.  —  En 
ters  Asia  Minor.  — The  Scenery  and  People.  —  The  Hills  of  Leb 
anon.— Beautiful  Scenes  about  Brousa. —Enters  Constantino 
ple.  —  A  Prophecy.  —  Return  to  Smyrna.  —  Again  in  Italy.  — 
Visits  his  German  Friend  at  Gotha.  —  The  Home  of  his  Second 
Love.  —  Goes  to  London.  —  Visits  Gibraltar.  —  Cadiz.  — 
Seville.  —  Spanish  History, 194 

CHAPTER  XXII. 

Leaves  Gibraltar  for  Alexandria.  —  Egypt  and  Old  Friends.  —  The 
Town  of  Suez. —  Embarks  for  Bombay.  —  Mocha  and  its  Cof 
fee.  —  Aden.  — Arrival  in  Bombay.  —  Reception  by  th.e  People.  — 
Trip  to  Elephanta.  —  Ride  into  the  Interior. —  Difficulties  of 
the  Journey.  —  Views  of  Agra.  —  Scenes  about  Delhi.  —  Starts 
for  the  Himalaya  Mountains, 206 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 

The  Himalaya  Mountains.  —  Returning  Southward.  —  Lucknow  and 
Calcutta.  —  Foretells  the  Great  Rebellion.  —  Embarks  for  Chi 
na.  —  Visit  to  the  Mountains  of  Penaug.  —  The  Chinese  at  Sin 
gapore. —  Arrival  at  Hong-Kong. —  Joins  the  Staff  of  the  U. 
S.  Commissioner.  —  Scenes  about  Shanghai.  —  The  Nanking 
Rebellion.  —  Life  in  Shanghai.  —  Enlists  in  the  Navy.  —  Com 
modore  Perry's  Expedition, 221 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

His  Reception  on  the  Man-of-war.  —  Commodore  Perry's  Tribute.  — 
Mr.  Taylor's  Journals.  — Visit  to  the  Loo-Choo  Islands.  —  Explo 
rations.  —  Mr.  Taylor  becomes  a  Favorite.  —  His  Description  of 
the  Country.  —  Cruise  to  Japan.  —  The  Purpose  of  the  Expedi 
tion.  —  Mr.  Taylor's  Assistance.  —  Return  to  Hong-Kong.  —  Re 
signs  his  Commission.  —  Visits  Canton.  —  Sails  for  America. — 
St.  Helena.  —  Arrival  in  New  York, 230 

CHAPTER  XXV. 

Takes  up  the  Editorial  Pen.  —  Publication  of  His  "  Poems  of  the 
Orient."  —  His  Books  of  Travel.  —  Lecturing  before  Lyceums.  — 
Friendship  of  Richard  H.  Stoddard.  —  Private  Correspondence 

—  Love  of  Fun.  —  Resolves  to  Build  a  Home  at  Kennett. - 
Charges  of  Intemperance.  —  Preparations  for  a  Third  Trip  to 
Europe.  —  Acquaintance  with  Thackeray,    ....    242 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 

Visit  to  Europe.  —  Reception  in  England.  —  Company  in  Charge.  — 
Starts  for  Sweden.  —  Stockholm.  —  The  Dangerous  Ride.  —  The 
Severe  Cold. — Arrival  in  Lapland.  —  First  Experience  with 
Canoes  and  Reindeers.  —  Becomes  a  Lapp.  —  The  Extreme 
North.  —  The  Days  without  a  Sun.  —  "  Yankee  Doodle."  —  Tho 
Return.  —  Study  in  Stockholm.  —  Return  to  Germany  and  Lou- 
don.  —  Embarks  for  Norway.  —  Meets  his  Friend  at  Cbristiania. 

—  The  Coast  of  Norway.  —  The  Midnight  Sun.  —  Trip  across 
Norway  and  Sweden.  —  Return  to  Germany,         .        .        .252 


THE 


LIFE,   TRAVELS,   AND   LITERARY   CAREER 


or 


BAYARD  TAYLOR. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Mr.  Taylor's  Career.  —  Difficulty  and  Importance  of  the  Work. — 
The  Romance  of  his  Life.  —  Variable  Experience.  —  His  Success 
as  Novelist,  Orator,  Traveller,  and  Poet. 

THE  nearness  and  magnitude  of  Bayard  Taylor's  life 
make  it  one  exceedingly  difficult  to  comprehend  and 
classify.  His  adventures  were  so  many,  his  struggles 
so  severe,  his  experience  so  varied,  and  his  final  suc 
cess  so  remarkable,  that  the  materials  are  too  .abun 
dant,  and  often  serve  to  clog  and  confuse  the  student 
of  his  career.  An  artist  who  views  the  mountain 
from  its  base,  loses  many  of  the  finest  effects  and 
most  charming  outlines,  because  of  his  very  close 
proximity  to  them.  So,  in  looking  upon  the  wonderful 
career  of  such  a  versatile  and  gifted  man,  at  a  time  so 
near  his  death,  we  are  less  able  to  form  a  comprehen 
sive  idea  of  his  life,  as  a  symmetrical  whole,  than  we 


14  LIFE    OF    BAYARD    TAYLOR. 

shall  be  when  the  years  have  carried  us  farther  away 
from  him,  and  the  outlines  of  his  greatness  are  more 
distinct.  Whether  it  were  better  to  wait  until  a  part 
of  the  life  has  been  forgotten,  and  until  the  more  harsh 
and  angular  features  have  been  lost  in  the  general  out 
line,  or  whether  it  were  more  desirable  to  describe  the 
life  in  all  its  actual  details,  and  in  the  natural  rugged- 
ness  which  the  close  view  reveals,  is,  however,  a  mere 
matter  of  taste.  To  those  who  love  to  read  of  a  man 
in  whose  work  there  was*  no  unevenness  and  in  whose 
experience  nothing  unbroken  is  seen,  the  life  of  one 
so  long  dead  that  the  writer  is  compelled  to  fill  up 
the  forgotten  years  with  ideal  events  and  motives  may 
furnish  the  choicest  theme.  But  to  those  students  who 
love  scientific  scrutiny,  who  would  estimate  the  life 
for  what  it  is  really  worth  as  an  example,  the  biog 
raphy  which  is  written  amid  all  the  facts,  and  by  one 
who  comes  in  actual  contact  with  them,  is  perhaps 
esteemed  the  most  valuable,  although,  as  a  whole,  less 
symmetrical. 

Bayard  Taylor's  life  was  rugged  and  cragged  with 
startling  events,  when  viewed  from  the  kindly  poetical 
stand-point  of  his  character.  He  felt  all  the  extremes 
of  joy  and  sorrow.  He  knew  all  the  pains  and  honors 
of  poverty  and  wealth.  He  was  loved  by  many,  he 
was  betrayed  by  many.  He  lived  in  the  most  enlight 
ened  lands,  he  also  sojourned  among  the  most  barbar 
ous  people.  He  saw  man  in  peace  and  in  war.  He 
rode  the  oreau  in  calm  and  in  storm.  H°  was  the 


LITERARY    POSITION.  15 

welcomed  guest  in  the  lowliest  huts,  and  in  the  most 
gorgeous  palaces.  He  sweltered  in  the  sands  of  trop- 
.cal  deserts,  and  he  was  benumbed  by  the  fierce  winds 
of  the  Northern  ice-fields.  He  boldly  entered  the 
haunts  of  wild  beasts,  and  loved  the  company  of 
harmless  and  faithful  domestics.  He  was  a  man  of 
many  virtues  and  some  faults,  each  of  which  made  his 
life  more  eventful  and  fascinating. 

The  literary  position  which  he  held  at  the  time  of 
his  death,  and  which  was  so  romantically  attained,  was 
one  of  almost  universal  favor.  He  was  respected  by 
all  and  loved  by  many.  As  a  writer  of  fiction  he  at 
tained  but  little  celebrity,  and  it  appears  that  he  had 
little  expectation  of  achieving  any  high  honors  in  that 
field.  As  a  writer  upon  travels,  and  as  a  delineator  of 
human  character  as  found  in  strange  places,  and  in  but 
partially  known  countries,  he  was  second  to  none. 
His  books  upon  travel  will  be  read  for  a  century  to 
come,  whether  thousands  or  few  visit  the  localities  and 
tribes  he  has  described.  As  an  orator,  he  never  held 
a  high  rank.  He  was  chaste,  concise,  and  clear  in  his 
choice  of  words,  and  had  an  incisive,  pungent  way  of 
stating  his  ideas.  He  could  instruct  the  student  and 
amuse  the  populace,  but  had  not  the  power  to  agi 
tate  and  carry  away  large  bodies  of  men,  and  seems 
never  to  have  been  very  ambitious  to  do  so.  As  a 
translator  of  German  literature,  he  was  fast  becoming 
recognized  in  all  English-speaking  countries  as  an 
excellent  authority,  and  it  is  deeply  to  be  regretted 


16  LJFE    OF   BAYARD    TAYLOR. 

that  he  was  called  away  with  so  many  uncompleted 
translations,  and  unfinished  plans  for  translations,  from 
the  standards  of  German  literature.  But  it  is  as  a  poet 
that  he  receives  the  greatest  homage.  Yet  how  little 
he  printed !  Unless  there  shall  be  found  laid  awa)> 
many  poems  unpublished,  he  may  be  classed  as  one  ol 
the  least  prolific  poets  of  his  generation.  His  lines 
are  so  simple,  so  true  to  life,  such  incarnate  sentences, 
so  expressive,  that,  to  one  who  has  had  a  similar  expe 
rience  with  the  poet,  every  stanza  is  a  panorama,  vivid 
and  indelible.  We  shall  see  as  we  pursue  the  tale,  how 
sensitive  he  was  to  everything  poetical,  and  how  deeply 
he  was  moved  by  all  those  finer  and  more  subtle  emo 
tions,  which  only  a  poet  can  feel.  His  love  was  deep 
and  abiding.  His  friendship,  like  the  oaks  of  his 
Cedarcroft  woodland.  His  old  home  was  to  him  the 
sweetest  place  in  all  the  beautiful  lauds  he  saw.  His 
life  was  full  of  romantic  incidents,  and  he  recognized 
them  and  appreciated  them,  for  the  poetry  they  sug 
gested.  We  venture  to  say  that  his  poetry  will  live 
in  every  household,  if  all  his  other  works  should  be 
forgotten. 


ANCESTRY.  17 


CHAPTER   II. 


German  Ancestry.  —  English  Ancestry.  —  The  Pennsylvania  Ger 
mans.  —  The  Quakers.  —  How  his  Forefathers  came  to  America. 
—  The  Effect  of  Intermixture  of  Races.  —  The  Hereditary  Traits 
seen  in  his  Books. 


THE  ancestry  of  Bayard  Taylor  were  connected 
with  some  of  the  best  blood  of  England  and  Germany. 
His  grandmothers  were  both  German,  and  his  grand 
fathers  both  English.  The  German  line  comes  from 
that  body  of  emigrants,  consisting  of  large  numbers 
from  Weimar,  Jena,  Cassel,  Gottingen,  Hanover,  and 
perhaps  Gotha,  who  sailed  from  Bremen  and  Ham 
burg  between  1730  and  1745.  The  continued  quar 
rels  among  the  dukes  and  princes  of  Germany, — the 
wars  in  progress  and  impending,  wherein  the  peace 
of  the  people  was  incessantly  disturbed,  —  caused  a 
universal  uneasiness  among  the  people  of  those  small 
nations.  They  never  were  quite  sure  of  a  day's  rest. 
If  they  sowed  unmolested,  there  was  a  grave  doubt 
whether  some  complication  with  France,  England,  or 
Poland  might  not  bring  foreign  invaders  or  allies  to 
destroy  or  devour  the  crops.  The  wars  were  so  inces 
sant,  and  the  quarrels  among  the  petty  lords  so  fre 
quent,  that  the  people  became  disheartened.  They 


18  LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

were  weary  of  building  for  others  to  destroy,  and  of 
rearing  sons  to  be  sacrificed  to  some  individual's 
ambition.  All  those  German  provinces,  or  duchies, 
had  to  accommodate  themselves  to  the  religion  of  their 
princes,  and,  at  times,  the  winds  that  played  about  the 
hills  of  the  Black  Forest  were  far  less  uncertain.  To 
the  fathers  of  these  emigrants,  who  sought  America  as  a 
haven  of  religious  and  political  rest,  George  Fox  and 
his  Quaker  disciples  had  taught  the  doctrines  of  "  The 
Holy  Spirit,"  and,  under  various  guises,  the  tenets  of 
that  belief  still  survived  in  the  German  heart. 

Those  Germans  who  settled  in  the  counties  of 
Pennsylvania,  lying  to  the  south  and  south-west  of 
Philadelphia,  came  to  this  country  during  the  disturb 
ances  in  the  Fatherland,  caused  by  Augustus,  Maria 
Theresa,  Frederick,  and  the  scores  of  other  princes 
who  were  in  power,  or  seeking  to  secure  it,  in  the 
numerous  states  and  free  cities  of  Germany.  It  is 
no  light  excuse,  no  desire  for  mere  wealth,  no  hasty 
search  for  the  fountains  of  youth,  that  causes  the 
solid,  earnest,  patriotic  people  of  Saxony,  Baden,  or 
Bavaria  to  leave  forever  the  home  of  their  nativity. 
It  is  a  little  curious  to  see  how  these  races,  which  so 
cordially  and  hospitably  received  the  Quaker  mission 
aries  from  England,  should  at  last  unite  with  them  in 
the  settlement  of  the  New  World,  and,  by  their  inter 
marriage,  produce  such  offshoots  of  the  united  stock 
as  Bayard  Taylor  and  his  cotemporaries. 

The    Quaker   ancestry  of  the    poet,  —  the  Taylors 


ANCESTKY.  19 

and  the  Ways,  —  run  back  through  a  long  line  of 
industrious  men  and  women,  more  or  less  known  in 
Central  Pennsylvania,  to  the  colony  which  William 
Penn  sent  over  from  England  to  cultivate  the  great 
land-grant,  which  King  Charles  II.,  of  England,  gave 
him,  in  consideration  of  his  father's  services  as  admiral 
in  the  British  navy.  They,  too,  were  driven  from 
their  homes  by  the  incessant  turmoil  either  of  wars  or 
religious  persecutions.  Their  preachers  had  again  and 
again  been  imprisoned,  while  some  had  died  the  death 
of  martyrs.  Even  Penn  himself  was  often  in  chains 
and  in  prison,  for  being  a  peaceable  believer  in  the 
truth  of  the  Quaker  doctrines  ;  but  so  blameless  were 
the  lives  of  these  people,  and  so  forgiving  their 
Christian  behavior,  that  the  term  "  Quakers,"  which 
was  at  first  applied  to  them  in  derision,  became  at 
last  a  title  of  respect  and  honor.  "  The  fear  of  the 
Lord  did  make  us  quake,"  was  a  common  expression 
with  George  Fox,  the  founder  of  the  sect,  and  the 
name  "Quakers"  originated  in  sneers  at  that  devout 
sentence. 

It  is  easy  to  trace  in  the  history  of  the  State  of 
Pennsylvania,  the  influence  of  the  Quaker  spirit,  and 
its  impiession  upon  the  institutions  of  the  American 
nation  is  also  strikingly  apparent.  But  when  one 
takes  up  the  life  of  one  of  their  descendants,  and 
studies  his  habits,  his  style  of  thought,  and  his  ideas 
of  social  and  political  institutions,  the  hereditary 
Quaker  element,  in  a  modified  form,  is  detected  in 


20  LITE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

every  motion  and  expression.  It  would  seem  as  if 
any  reader,  to  whom  the  author  is  unknown,  would 
detect  at  once,  in  any  volume  of  Taylor's  poetry  or 
travels,  the  fact  that  he  came  from  Quaker  stock.  As 
will  be  more  clearly  shown  in  a  subsequent  chapter, 
the  teachings  of  the  Quakers,  and  their  manner  of 
expression  by  gesture  and  phrase,  have  unconsciously 
and  charmingly  crept  into  the  bosom  of  his  best 
works.  It  is  a  great  boon  to  be  born  of  such  a  physi 
cal  and  mental  combination  as  that  of  the  German 
soldiers,  with  all  their  coolness  and  bravery,  and  the 
even-tempered,  God-fearing  Quakers,  with  all  their 
grace  and  wisdom.  Such  intermixture  has  given  to 
our  young  nation  much  of  its  surprising  enterprise 
and  originality,  and  must,  at  last,  when  consolidated 
into  a  compact  people,  produce  a  nation  and  a  race 
wholly  unlike  any  other  on  the  earth. 

It  is  not  known  that  any  of  Bayard -Taylor's  ances 
try  were  literary  men,  or  that  any  of  them  were 
endowed  with  special  genius,  beyond  that  which  was 
necessary  to  clear  the  forests,  cultivate  the  soil,  man 
age  manufacturing  enterprises,  and  carry  on  small 
mercantile  establishments.  Solid  people,  with  wide 
common-sense,  industrious  hands  and  generous  hearts, 
they  have  modestly  held  their  way,  doing  their  simple 
duty,  and,  Quaker-like,  making  no  display. 


BIRTH    AND    BOYHOOD.  21 


CHAPTER    III. 

Birth  at  Keuuett  Square. — Old  Homestead.  — The  Quaker  Clmrch. 
The  Village.  —  His  Father's  Store.  —  Life  on  the  Farm.  —  Mis 
chievous  School-boy.  —  Inclination  to  write  Poetry.  —  Practical 
Joker.  —  Studious  Youth.  —  His  Parents.  —  His  Brothers  and 

Sisters. 

BAYARD  TAYLOR  was  born  at  Kennett  Square, 
Perm.,  Jan.  11,  1825.  His  mother,  whose  maiden 
name  was  Rebecca  Way,  was  then  twenty-nine  years 
of  age,  and  his  father  was  thirty-one.  The  house 
then  occupied  was  a  two-story  stone-and-mortar 
structure,  such  as  are  yet  very  common  in  the  farm 
ing  regions  of  central  Pennsylvania.  The  house  was 
long  and  narrow,  having  a  porch  that  extended  along 
the  whole  front.  The  rooms  were  small  and  low, 
but  it  was  considered  by  the  farmers  of  that  time 
as  a  very  comfortable  and  respectable  home.  It  was 
located  at  the  junction  of  two  highways,  and  near  the 
centre  of  the  little  hamlet  called  the  "  Square,"  and 
sometimes  the  "Village."  But  few  families  resided 
there  in  1825,  and  the  people  were  all  more  or  less 
engaged  in  the  cultivation  of  the  soil.  The  little  rude 
Quaker  meeting-house,  so  box-like  and  cold  in  its 
aspect,  was  doubtless  the  centre  of  attraction,  and  the 
desire  to  be  near  the  house  of  God,  led  those  devoted 


22  LIFE    OF   BAYARD    TAYLOR. 

Quakers  to  build  their  dwellings  on  that  portion  of 
their  lands  which  lay  nearest  the  church. 

The  village  has  increased  in  growth,  and  now  has  a 
population  of  six  or  seven  hundred,  with  several 
churches  belonging  to  other  denominations,  and  ver^ 
flourishing  schools.  But  the  old  homestead  building, 
in  which  Bayard  was  born,  was  destroyed  by  fire  in 
1876. 

At  the  time  of  his  birth,  his  father  kept  a  miscel 
laneous  stock  of  merchandise  in  one  room  of  his 
house,  and  supplied  the  necessities  of  the  farmers,  so 
far  as  the  small  capital  of  a  country  store  could  antici 
pate  their  wants.  Situated  thirty-five  miles  from  Phil 
adelphia,  to  which  place  he  was  compelled  to  send  the 
produce  he  received,  and  in  which  place  he  purchased 
his  simple  stock  of  goods,  the  merchant  had  a 
task  on  his  hands  which  cannot  be  appreciated  or 
understood  in  these  days  of  railways,  telegraphs,  and 
commercial  travellers.  One  of  his  neighbors,  living 
in  1872,  used  to  relate  how  Mr.  Taylor,  having  had  a 
call  for  two  hay-rakes,  which  he  could  not  supply, 
drove  all  the  way  to  West  Chester,  the  distance  of  a 
dozen  miles,  to  get  those  tools  for  his  customer. 

At  the  time  of  Bayard's  birth,  his  parents  had  been 
married  seven  years.  Their  life  had  already  been 
subject  to  many  trials,  and  was  fated  to  meet  many 
more.  Of  a  family  of  ten  children,  only  one-half  the 
number  survived  to  see  mature  years.  The  losses  by 
mercantile  ventures,  by  failing  crops,  by  sickness 


BIRTH   AND   BOYHOOD.  23 

and  accidents,  often  swept  away  the  hard  earnings  of 
many  a  month.  Yet  they  struggled  on,  industrious 
and  cheerful,  keeping  themselves  and  their  children 
ever  busy. 

When  Bayard  was  two  or  three  years  old,  his  father 
purchased  a  farm  about  a  mile  from  the  village,  and 
giving  up  his  mercantile  avocations,  turned  his  whole 
attention  to  farming.  On  that  farm  Bayard  spent  the 
opening  years  of  his  life,  and  on  one  section  of  it  did 
he  build  his  beautiful  home  of  "  Cedarcroft." 

"  The  beginning  and  the  end  is  here  — 
The  days  of  youth  ;  the  silvered  years." 

How  deeply  he  loved  his  home,  how  sincere  his  affec 
tion  for  the  rolling  fields,  the  chestnut  and  the  walnut 
woodland,  the  old  stone  farm-house,  the  clumsy  barn, 
the  old  highway,  the  acres  of  corn  and  wheat,  the  dis 
tant  village  and  its  quaint  old  church,  can  be  seen  in 
a  thousand  expressions  finding  place  in  his  published 
works.  His  poetical  nature  opened  to  his  view  beau 
tiful  landscapes  and  charming  associations  which  oth 
ers  would  not  detect.  The  birds  sang  in  an  intelligi 
ble  language  ;  the  leaves  on  the  corn  entered  into 
conversation ;  the  lowing  of  the  cows  could  be  inter 
preted  ;  and  the  rocks  were  romantic  story-tellers. 
He  loved  them  all.  That  farm  was  his  Mecca  in  all 
his  travels.  When  he  left,  he  says  he  promised  bird, 
beast,  trees,  and  knolls,  that  he  would  return  to 
them.  To  the  writer,  who  went  to  Cedarcroft  after 


24  LIFE    OF   BAYARD    TAYLOR. 

the  poet's  death,  and  who  has  so  long  loved  and 
admired  his  poetry,  it  seemed  as  if  the  trees  patiently 
awaited  his  return.  All  things  in  nature  must  have 
loved  and  trusted  him,  or  they  would  not  have  con 
fided  to  him  so  many  of  their  secrets. 

Of  the  pastoral  life  in  Pennsylvania  he  speaks  with 
pleasing  directness  in  his  volume  entitled  "  Home 
Pastorals."  In  one  place  the  aged  farmer  says  :  — 

"  Well  —  well !  this  is  comfort  now  —  the  air  is  mild  as  May, 
And  yet  'tis  March  the  twentieth,  or  twenty-first,  to-day  ; 
And  Reuben  ploughs  the  hill  for  corn  :  I  thought  it  would  be  tough 
But  now  I  see  the  furrows  turned,  I  guess  it's  dry  enough. 

I'm  glad  I  built  this  southern  porch ;  my  chair  seems  easier  here : 

I  haven't  seen  as  fine  a  spring  this  five  and  twenty  year. 

And  how  the  time  goes  round  so  quick  :   a  week  I  would  have 

sworn, 
Since  they  were  husking  on  the  flat,  and  now  they  plough  for  corn 

Across  the  level  Brown's  new  place  begins  to  make  a  show  • 
I  thought  he'd  have  to  wait  for  trees,  but,  bless  me,  how  they  grow . 
They  say  it's  fine  —  two  acres  filled  with  evergreens  and  things  ; 
But  so  much  land !  it  worries  me,  for  not  a  cent  it  brings. 

He  has  the  right,  I  don't  deny,  to  please  himself  that  way, 
But  'tis  a  bad  example  set,  and  leads  young  folks  astray  : 
Book-learning  gets  the  upper  hand,  and  work  is  slow  and  slack, 
And  they  that  come  long  after  us  will  find  things  gone  to  wrack. 

Well  —  I  suppose  I'm  old,  and  yet  it  is  not  long  ago 
When  Reuben  spread  the  swath  to  dry,  and  Jesse  learned  to  mow, 
And  William  raked,  and  Israel  hoed,  and  Joseph  pitched  with  me, 
But  such  a  man  as  I  was  then  my  boys  will  never  be  1 


BIRTH    AND    BOYHOOD.  25 

I  don't  mind  William's  hankering  for  lectures  and  for  boGKft 
He  never  had  a  farming  knack  —  you  'd  see  it  in  his  looks ; 
But  handsome  is  that  handsome  does,  and  he  is  well  to  do: 
'Twould  ease  my  mind  if  I  could  say  the  same  of  Jesse,  too. 

?Tis  like  my  time  is  nearly  out ;  of  that  I  'm  not  afraid  ; 

I  never  cheated  any  man,  and  all  my  dehts  are  paid. 

They  call  it  rest  that  we  shall  have,  but  work  would  do  no  harm ; 

There  can't  be  rivers  there,  and  fields,  without  some  sort  o'  farm." 

No  description  in  prose  can  as  well  describe  his 
occupation  as  a  boy,  as  his  own  lines,  in  the  poem  of 
the  "Holly  Tree." 

"  The  corn  was  warm  in  the  ground,  the  fences  were  mended  and 
made, 

And  the  garden-beds,  as  smooth  as  a  counterpane  is  laid, 

Were  dotted  and  striped  with  green,  where  the  peas  and  the  rad 
ishes  grew, 

With  elecampane  at  the  foot,  and  comfrey,  and  sage,  and  rue. 

From  the  knoll  where  stood  the  house,  the  fair  fields  pleasantly 
rolled, 

To  dells  where  the  laurels  hung,  and  meadows  of  buttercup  gold." 

Such  was  the  farm  when  he  left  it,  in  words  of  the 
poet's  choosing,  and  what  he  found  when,  after  a 
quarter  of  a  century  of  wanderings,  he  can  best  de 
scribe. 

"  Here  are  the  fields  again,  the  soldierly  maize  in  tassel 
Stands  on  review,  and  carries  the  scabbarded  ears  in  its  armpits. 
Rustling,  I  part  the  ranks,  —  the  close,  engulfing  battalions 
Shaking  their    plumes    overhead,  —  and,   wholly  bewildered    a 

heated, 

Gain  the  top  of  the  ridge,  where  stands,  colossal,  the  pin-oak. 
Yonder,  a  mile  away,  I  see  the  roofs  of  the  village-  — 


26  LIFE    OF   BAYARD    TAYLOR. 

See  the  crouching  front  of  the  meeting-house  of  the  Quakers, 
Oddly  conjoined  with  the  whittled  Presbyterian  steeple. 
Right  and  left  are  the  homes  of  the  slow,  conservative  farmers, 
Loyal  people  and  true  ;  but,  now  that  the  battles  are  over, 
Zealous  for  Temperance,   Peace,   and    the   Right  of   Suffrage   foi 

Women. 

Orderly,  moral  are  they,  —  at  least,  in  the  sense  of  suppression  ; 
Given  to  preaching  of  rules,  inflexible  outlines  of  duty  : 
Seeing  the  sternness  of  life;  but,  alas!  overlooking  its  graces. 
Let  me  be  juster  :  the  scattered  seeds  of  the  graces  are  planted 
Widely  apart ;  but  the  trumpet-vine  on  the  porch  is  a  token  : 
Yea,  and  awake  and  alive  are  the  forces  of  love  and  affection, 
Plastic  forces  that  work  from  the  tenderer  models  of  beauty." 

There  must  be  many  things  in  the  events  of  com 
mon  life  which  find  no  voice  in  poetry,  as  every  life 
has  its  prose  side.  At  all  events,  there  were  some 
duties  connected  with  agricultural  work  which  young 
Bayard  never  enjoyed.  He  never  was  ambitious  to 
follow  the  plough,  or  do  the  miscellaneous  odd  jobs 
which  perplex  and  weary  a  farmer's  boy.  Yet,  like 
Burns,  he  worked  cheerfully,  and  wrung  more  or  less 
poetry  out  of  every  occupation.  He  was  a  spare, 
wiry,  nervous  boy,  quick  at  work,  study,  or  play, 
and  consequently  had  many  leisure  moments,  when 
other  boys  were  drudging  along  with  ceaseless  toil. 
His  schoolmates,  and  the  only  school-teacher  now 
living  (1879),  who  taught  him  in  his  boyhood,  all 
agree  that  he  was  a  mischievous  boy.  He  loved  prac 
tical  jokes,  and,  in  fact,  jokes  of  every  kind.  But 
he  was  ceaselessly  framing  verses.  When  his  lesson 
was  mastered,  which  was  always  in  an  incredibly 


BIRTH    AND    BOYHOOD.  27 

short  space  of  time  after  he  took  up  his  book,  he 
plunged  recklessly  into  poetry.  Verses  about  the 
teacher,  about  snowbanks,  about  buttercups,  about 
pigs,  about  courting,  funerals,  church  services,  school 
mates,  and  countless  other  themes  filled  his  desk, 
pockets,  and  hat. 

Often  he  wrote  love  letters,  couched  in  the  most 
delicate  phraseology,  and  signing  the  name  of  some 
classmate  to  them,  would  send  them  to  astonished 
ploughboys  and  blushing  maidens.  One  old  gentle 
man  in  West  Chester,  Perm.,  always  claimed  that  a  set 
of  Bayard's  burlesque  verses,  sent  out  in  that  way, 
induced  him  to  court  and  marry  a  girl  with  whom 
he  had  no  acquaintance,  until  the  explanation  of  his 
tender  epistle  was  demanded  by  her  father.  What 
volumes  of  poetry  he  must  have  written,  which  never 
saw  the  type,  and  how  much  more  of  that  which  he 
was  in  the  habit  of  repeating  to  himself  was  left  un 
written  !  The  life  he  led,  from  his  earliest  school 
days,  until  he  was  fifteen  years  of  age,  was  that 
of  every  farmer's  boy  in  America,  who  is  compelled 
to  work  hard  through  the  spring,  summer,  and  .au 
tumn,  and  attend  the  district  school  in  the  winter. 
The  only  remarkable  difference  between  Bayard  and 
many  other  boys,  was  found  in  his  strong  desire  to 
read,  and  his  genius  for  poetry.  He  gathered  the 
greater  part  of  his  youthful  education  from  books, 
which  he  read  at  home,  and  by  himself. 

He  had  a  noble  father,  and  a  lovely  mother,  God 


28  LIFE   OF   BAYARD   TAYLOR. 

bless  them !  and  they  made  it  as  easy  for  Bayard  as 
they  could  in  justice  to  the  other  children.  They 
might  not  have  fully  understood  the  signs  of  genius 
which  he  displayed ;  but  they  put  no  needless  stum 
bling-blocks  in  his  way.  No  better  proof  of  this 
is  needed,  than  the  excellent  record  of  the  other 
children,  all  of  whom  hold  enviable  positions  in  so 
ciety.  One  brother,  Dr.  J.  Howard  Taylor,  is  a 
physican,  and  connected  with  the  health  department 
of  the  city  of  Philadelphia  ;  another,  William  W.  Tay 
lor,  is  a  most  skilful  civil  engineer ;  while  a  third, 
Col.  Frederick  Taylor,  was  killed  at  the  battle  of 
Gettysburg,  when  leading  the  celebrated  Bticktail 
Regiment  of  Pennsylvania.  Two  sisters  are  living, 
—  Mrs.  Annie  Carey,  wife  of  a  Swiss  gentleman; 
and  Mrs.  Lamborn,  wife  of  Col.  Charles  B.  Lam- 
born,  of  Colorado.  Growing  up  in  such  a  family, 
as  an  elder  brother,  involved  much  patient  toil,  and 
great  responsibility.  The  best  tribute  to  him,  in 
those  days,  was  paid  by  an  old  lady,  of  Reading, 
Penn.,  who  knew  him  in  his  youth,  and  who  summed 
up  her  evidence  to  the  writer  in  the  words,  "lie  did 
all  ho  could." 


INTELLECTUAL   INCLINATION.  29 


CHAPTER    IV. 

Unfitn  ess  for  Farming. —  Love  for  Books.  —  Goes  to  tLe  Academy. 

—  Appearance  as  a  Student.  —  Love  for  Geography  and  History. 

—  Enters   a  Printing-office.  —  Genius    for   Sketching.  —  Corre 
spondence  with  Literary  Men.  —  Their  Advice.  —  Hon.  Charles 
Miner. —  Putnam's   Tourist  Guide.  —  Determination   to   go   to 
Europe.  —  Dismal  Prospects. 

JOSEPH  TAYLOR  was  too  intelligent  and  observing 
not  to  notice  bow  unfit  was  bis  son  Bayard  for  tend 
ing  sheep,  hoeing  corn,  and  weeding  beds  of  vege 
tables.  The  intellectual  inclination  exhibited  by  the 
boy  in  every  undertaking,  and  his  frail  form,  led 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Taylor  to  look  about  for  some 
occupation  for  their  son  more  fitting  than  the  hard 
drudgery  of  a  farm.  The  eagerness  with  which  he 
devoted  himself  to  the  study  of  such  books  as 
could  then  be  secured ;  his  schemes  for  obtaining 
volumes  considered  by  his  parents,  until  then,  wholly 
beyond  their  reach ;  his  poems  and  essays,  learned  in 
the  hay  field,  and  written  out  after  the  day's  work  was 
done,  all  confirmed  them  in  the  feeling  that  it  was 
their  duty  to  give  up  his  assistance  on  the  homestead, 
and  permit  him  to  follow  the  leading  of  his  genius. 
It  was  with  no  little  anxiety  that  they  sent  him  "  away 
to  school " ;  for  they  felt  then  that  they  might  not 


30  LIFE    OF    BAYARD    TAYLOR. 

hnvc  theii  son,  as  a  companion,  at  home  again  Mr, 
Gause  then  taught  an  excellent  high  school  at  West 
Chester,  the  county  seat,  and  to  that  they  sent  him 
for  a  short  time.  One  of  his  classmates  at  that  school, 
now  residing  in  Baltimore,  says  he  remembers  dis 
tinctly  how  awkward  and  rustic  Bayard  appeared 
when  he  first  entered  the  school,  and  how  radical  and 
rapid  was  the  change  from  the  ploughboy  to  the  stu 
dent.  He  became  a  universal  favorite,  and  was  so  able 
to  teach,  and  so  ready  to  help,  that  he  had  a  large 
number  of  scholars  following  him  about  half  the  time, 
for  the  purpose  of  getting  assistance  at  their  lessons. 
Yet  he  found  much  time  to  read  other  books  than 
those  containing  his  studies,  and  as  in  a  village  of  the 
size  of  West  Chester,  there  were  some  small  libraries, 
his  desire  for  reading  could  be  gratified.  Geography 
was  his  favorite  study,  and,  in  the  pursuit  of  informa 
tion,  he  sought  out  and  read  so  many  books  relating 
to  the  places  mentioned  in  the  text-book,  that  his 
classmates  used  to  say  that  "  Bayard  knows  all  about 
his  geography  without  even  reading  his  lessons  over." 
He  was  soon  well  acquainted  with  the  history  of 
the  world,  and  had  the  most  interesting  events  con 
nected  with  the  wars  of  Europe  fresh  in  his  mind. 
He  read  about  Edinburgh,  London,  Paris,  Berlin, 
and  Dresden  ;  of  William  the  Conqueror,  Peter  the 
Great,  Charlemagne,  and  Mahomet;  of  the  adventures 
of  the  Crusaders,  of  the  wars  of  the  Roses,  the  Thirty 
Years'  War,  and  Napoleon's  campaigns ;  and,  with 


YOUTHFUL   ENTERPRISES.  31 

each  volume,  built  higher  those  castles  in  the  air, 
which  many  youths  construct  on  the  excitement  of 
such  themes.  It  seems  astonishing  how  a  boy  of 
fourteen  years  could  appreciate  so  much  of  the  books 
he  read,  when  we  recall  the  dulness  and  dryness  which 
characterized  almost  every  history  then  extant,  and 
the  exceedingly  difficult  subjects  of  which  they  treated. 
He  read,  one  day,  for  a  few  minutes,  in  Union ville,  in 
1839,  from  a  book  that  lay  on  the  mantel-shelf,  and 
although  the  subject  was  that  of  art  and  the  beauty  of 
Raphael's  Madonna  and  child,  he  understood  it  so 
well,  and  remembered  it  so  clearly,  that,  in  1845, 
when  at  Dresden,  where  the  picture  was  exhibited,  he 
was  able  to  recall  the  words  of  that  description,  and 
the  name  of  the  writer. 

The  circumstances  in  which  his  parents  were  placed, 
made  it  impossible  for  them  to  support  him  long  at 
school,  neither  was  he  inclined  to  be  a  charge  upon 
them.  He  desired  to  be  able  to  earn  money  for  him 
self,  both  to  relieve  his  parents  of  the  expense,  and  to 
furnish  means  for  purchasing  books.  He  was  a  bold 
youth.  He  seemed  to  fear  nothing.  He  had  a 
sublime  faith  in  his  own  success,  wrhich  was  not  ego 
tism  nor  pride,  but  an  inspiration.  Very  often,  when 
he  had  read  a  book,  he  would  sit  down  and  write  to 
the  author  ;  which  fact  was  not,  in  itself,  so  astonishing 
as  the  fact  that  he  wrote  letters  so  bright  and  sensible, 
that  in  nearly  every  case  he  obtained  a  courteous, 
and  often  a  lengthy  reply.  In  this  way,  he  made  the 


82  LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

acquaintance  of  many  men  well  known  in  the  literary 
circles  of  America,  several  of  whom  were  of  great 
assistance  to  him  a  few  years  after.  When  he  was 
but  ten  years  old,  and  still  on  the  old  farm,  he  read 
"Pencillings  by  the  Way,"  which  was  a  narrative  of 
foreign  travel,  written  by  Nathaniel  P.  Willis,  and 
published  in  the  New  York  "Mirror,"  of  which  Mr. 
Willis  was  then  an  associate  editor. 

Young  Bayard  soon  after  entered  into  a  correspond 
ence  with  Mr.  Willis  on  literary  matters,  and  contin 
ued  the  interchange  of  letters  until  the  death  of  Mr. 
Willis,  in  1867.  In  the  same  manner  young  Bayard 
secured  the  attention,  advice,  and  assistance  of  Rufus 
W.  Griswold,  who  edited  the  "New  World"  and  the 
"New  Yorker,"  and  who,  in  1842  and  1843,  edited 
"  Graham's  Magazine,"  in  Philadelphia.  Dr.  Gris 
wold  was  also  a  poet,  and  in  fact  had  been  in  every 
branch  of  literary  work,  from  writing  items  in  Boston 
for  a  weekly  paper,  through  type-setting,  reporting, 
and  compiling,  to  writing  sermons  as  a  Baptist  minis 
ter.  He  had  led  a  wandering  life,  had  seen  much  of 
the  world,  and  was  well  acquainted,  as  an  editor  and 
reviewer,  with  all  the  best  works  of  history,  travel,  and 
poetry.  From  him  Bayard  received  much  sensible 
advice  and  much  encouragement.  To  him  Bayard 
sent  some  of  his  earliest  poems,  and  thus  secured 
their  publication. 

It  is  probable  that  Bayard  became  acquainted  with 
Henry  S.  Evans,  editor  of  the  West  Chester  "  Village 


PRINTING   AND   SKETCHING.  33 

Record,"  through  some  of  his  poetical  contributions 
to  that  paper.  However  that  may  be,  he  sought  the 
office  of  that  paper  for  an  opportunity  to  learn  the 
printer's  trade,  when  it  had  been  decided  by  his  pa 
rents  to  let  him  go.  The  "Village  Record"  had  long 
been  a  respected  and  favorite  journal  for  that  county, 
and  had,  under  the  editorial  management  of  Hon. 
Charles  Miner,  been  the  intellectual  training-school 
of  many  influential  and  noted  men.  Mr.  Evans  was 
conducting  the  paper  with  much  ability,  and  it  was 
then  usually  considered  a  great  opportunity  for  any 
young  man  if  an  opening  was  found  for  him  in  the 
office  of  that  periodical. 

Yet  Bayard  did  not  like  the  work  of  a  printer, 
and  especially  despised  the  work  which  naturally  fell 
to  his  lot  as  a  new  apprentice.  He  took  to  sketching ; 
and  having  added  the  instruction  of  a  teacher,  for  a 
few  weeks,  to  a  natural  tact  for  drawing,  he  "  illus 
trated  "  almost  everything  within  reach  which  had  a 
smooth  surface.  He  caricatured  the  printers  and  edi 
tors,  and  brought  out  the  worst  features  of  his  asso 
ciates  in  horrible  cartoons.  He  sent  to  delinquent 
correspondents  pictures  of  ink-bottles  and  long  quills. 
He  sketched  hi  nself  in  the  mirror,  and  sent  the  copy 
to  inquiring  friends.  Far  too  intent  upon  drawings, 
poetry,  and  travels  to  make  much  progress  as  a  print 
er,  he  became  tired  of  the  occupation  and  longed  to 
be  free.  There  came  to  his  hands  some  time  before 


34  LIFE    OF    BAYARD   TAYLOR. 

he  entered  the  printing-office,  a  small  book,  intended 
partly  for  home  reading  and  partly  as  a  guide-book 
for  European  travellers,  entitled  "  The  Tourist  in 
Europe."  It  was  written  by  George  P.  Putnam,  of 
New  York,  and  told  the  routes,  and  described  the 
wonders  to  be  seen,  in  a  very  fascinating  way  to  one 
like  Bayard,  whose  imagination  was  already  excited  to 
the  most  enthusiastic  pitch.  The  boy  appears  to  have 
studied  that  book  with  the  greatest  and  most  perse 
vering  zeal.  He  used  it  for  a  plan  of  reading,  and 
taking  it  by  course,  borrowed  books  relating  to  the 
places  mentioned  by  Mr.  Putnam,  until  one  by  one 
he  had  learned  the  history,  occupation,  literary 
achievements,  and  habits  of  every  city  or  town  of 
note  in  the  whole  of  Europe.  He  made  up  his  mind 
that  he  was  going  to  Europe.  Just  how  or  when  was 
a  mysfery.  But  that  he  was  going  soon  he  had  no 
doubt.  He  spoke  of  his  trip  to  England  and  Ger 
many  with  the  confidence  of  one  who  has  his  ticket 
and  letter  of  credit  already  in  his  pocket.  Yet  he  was 
a  penniless  boy,  who  had  scarcely  seen  a  ship,  and 
who  knew  but  a  few  phrases  outside  of  his  native 
tongue.  His  friends  laughed  at  him,  and  gravely  tuld 
his  relatives  that  if  Bayard  did  not  curb  his  rambling 
disposition  he  would  become  a  beggar  and  a  disgrace. 
Even  that  chosen  schoolmate,  whose  dark  eyes  and 
tresses  held  more  influence  over  his  thoughts  and 
movements  than  the  world  knew,  or  he  himself  would 
publicly  acknowledge,  laughed  incredulously  as  he 


PREPARATIONS    FOR    TRAVEL.  35 

told  her  of  his  projected  visits  to  the  castles,  towers, 
shrines,  and  battle-fields  of  Europe  and  Asia. 

The  months  rolled  heavily  away,  and  his  fingers 
wearied  with  the  type,  and  his  heart  became  sad  be 
cause  of  the  long  delay.  He  began  to  be  ashamed  of 
his  boasts,  but  patiently  waited.  For  two  years  he 
studied,  planned,  prophesied,  yearned  for  a  trip  to 
Europe  ;  having  in  the  meantime  made  a  short  and 
hazardous  tramp  to  the  Catskills,  with  money  saved 
from  his  clothing  allowance  as  an  apprentice.  He 
ventured  to  write  to  some  ship-owners  in  Phila 
delphia,  to  ascertain  if  he  could  work  his  pas 
sage.  He  often  mentioned  his  proposed  trip  to  his 
employer,  and  asked  to  be  released  from  his  engage 
ment  and  agreement  as  an  apprentice.  Mr.  Evans 
only  smiled  and  said  that  Bayard  need  not  trouble 
himself  about  that  at  present ;  it  would  be  all  right 
when  the  time  came  for  him  to  go.  Thus,  with  a 
conviction  that  he  should  certainly  go,  and  yet  heart 
sick  at  the  delay,  Bayard  reached  his  nineteenth 
birthday. 


36  LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 


CHAPTER  V. 

Visited  by  his  Cousin.  — Decides  to  go  to  Europe  with  his  Cousin.  ~ 
Correspondence  with  Travellers.  —  Lack  of  Money.  —  Unshaken 
Confidence.  —  Publication  of  Ximena. 

BAYARD  had  a  cousin  Frank,  or  Franklin,  whom  he 
held  in  great  respect,  and  *vhose  subsequent  life,  as 
will  be  seen  hereafter,  justified  the  high  esteem  in 
which  Bayard  held  him.  This  young  man,  a  few 
years  older  than  Bayard,  had,  by  much  patience  and 
perseverance,  succeeded  in  obtaining  sufficient  money 
to  support  himself  in  an  economical  manner  in  Ger 
many,  and  had  made  up  his  mind  to  attend  the  lectures 
at  the  university  in  Heidelberg. 

"  Are  you  really  going,  Frank  ?  " 

"Yes,  Bayard,  I  am  going  siuw." 

"Then  I  am  going  with  you." 

"*But,  Bayard,  how  are  you  going  to  get  the  money 
to  pay  your  expenses?" 

"  I  do  not  know  where  it  is  coming  from,  not  even 
for  my  outfit,  but  I  am  going  with  you." 

Bayard  had  written  to  a  great  many  people,  of 
whom  he  had  heard,  asking  them  about  the  expense 
and  outfit  for  a  tour  in  Europe.  Some  of  them  had 
made  the  journey,  and  some  had  completed  their  prep- 


FIRST   POEMS.  37 

arations  ;  but  they  all  placed  the  amount  so  high  as 
to  appear  like  a  fabulous  sum  to  the  poor  apprentice. 
None  placed  the  fare  at  less  than  five  hundred  dollars, 
while  some  of  the  estimates  were  as  high  as  eighteen 
hundred  dollars.  Of  course  this  poor  boy  could 
not  earn  nor  borrow  either  of  these  amounts.  Yet 
he  was  confident  that  in  some  way  he  would  be  able 
to  overcome  the  difficulty. 

Dr.  Griswold,  of  whom  mention  was  made  in  the 
last  chapter,  had  suggested  that  it  might  be  wise  for 
Bayard  to  publish,  in  small  book-form,  his  sonnets  and 
other  poems,  and  sell  them  to  friends  and  admirers ; 
and  when  he  found  that  Frank  was  going,  he  deter 
mined  to  try  that  method  of  raising  a  little  money, 
lie  went  to  some  of  his  old  friends  and  neighbors  for 
assistance  to  print  his  little  volume  ;  but  so  little  was 
their  faith  in  the  boy  they  had  known  from  his  birth, 
that  they  told  him  they  would  not  encourage  him  in 
a  scheme  so  absurd  and  impracticable.  But  Bayard 
only  became  the  more  determined  with  each  defeat. 
He  renewed  his  application  to  friends  more  distant, 
and,  as  is  usually  the  case,  he  found  they  had  more 
confidence  than  those  who  looked  upon  him  as  the 
boy  thejr  knew  on  the  farm.  From  those  distant 
friends,  living  in  Philadelphia  and  West  Chester,  he 
at  last  obtained  such  assistance  as  to  be  able  to  print 
a  few  copies  of  his  poems.  He  christened  his  first 
volume  "Ximena,  and  other  Poems,"  and  finding 
many  kindly  disposed  persons  who  would  like  to  help 


38  LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

him  u>  the  small  sum  asked  for  the  book,  but  who 
would  have  been  ashamed  to  present  him  with  so 
diminutive  an  amount,  he  was  enabled  to  dispose  of 
enough  in  a  few  days  to  pay  his  expenses  and  a 
profit  of  twenty  dollars.  Acting  upon  the  advice  of 
Nathaniel  P.  Willis,  he  applied  to  the  editors  of  tho 
various  newspapers  in  Philadelphia  for  employment  as 
a  travelling  correspondent ;  but  letters  from  Europe 
were  becoming  stale,  and  correspondence  was  over 
done,  so  that  he  was  met  with  discouraging  refusals 
on  every  hand.  Fortunately,  some  one  suggested  to 
him  the  names  of  the  "  Saturday  Evening  Post,"  and 
the  "  United  States  Gazette."  He  was,  however, 
without  hope  of  anything  from  them.  He  has  since 
said  to  his  friends,  that  he  then  thought  as  he  could 
not  fare  any  worse  than  he  had  done,  it  would  do  no 
harm  to  try  again.  His  confidence  in  his  final  success 
was  so  great,  that  he  had  made  a  settlement  with  Mr. 
Evans,  of  the  "  Village  Record,"  and  had  left  the  em 
ployment  of  a  printer  before  he  had  found  or  thought 
of  a  way  to  secure  funds  for  his  intended  trip.  He  had 
no  money,  no  outfit,  no  employment;  and  yet  he  was 
sure'  he  should  go.  In  that  condition,  and  in  a  state 
of  mind  bordering  on  wonder,  because  the  way  which 
was  to  open  had  so  long  remained  shut,  this  thin, 
awkward  youth  walked  confidently  into  the  office  of 
the  "Saturday  Evening  Post/'  Mr.  S.  D.  Patterson 
was  then  its  editor,  and,  while  he  was  disposed  to 
assist  the  young  man,  he  did  not  have  much  faith  in 


RAISING   FUNDS.  39 

h*s  success  as  a  correspondent.  Mr.  Patterson,  how* 
ever,  gave  Bayard  some  encouragement,  and  the 
youth,  with  lighter  step,  went  to  the  office  of  the 
"United  States  Gazette."  Not  finding  Mr.  J.  E. 
Chandler  at  his  editorial  room,  Bayard  went  to  the 
editor's  residence.  Mr.  Chandler  was  sick  in  bed ; 
but  he  was  able  to  converse  with  Bayard,  and  received 
him  very  pleasantly.  The  young  man  had  never  met 
Mr.  Chandler  before  ;  but  he  stated  his  cause  with  such 
frankness  and  clearness,  and  showed  such  confidence 
in  his  final  triumph,  that  Mr.  Chandler  took  out  his 
pocket-book  and  gave  Bayard  fifty  dollars,  saying  that 
if  he  sent  any  letters  of  sufficient  interest  they  would 
be  inserted  in  the  columns  of  the  "  Gazette."  Mr. 
Chandler  did  not,  at  the  time,  care  for  letters  from 
Europe,  and  did  rot  expect  to  publish  any ;  but,  act 
ing  from  the  promptings  of  a  generous  heart,  he 
freely  gave  the  assistance  desired.  «_,r  Mr.  Chandler's 
honorable  career,  more  will  V  said  in  another  chap 
ter. 

On  returning  to  Mr.  Patterson,  Bayard  found  him 
willing  to  do  as  he  had  proposed,  and  the  sum  of  fifty 
dollars  was  added  to  the  gift  of  Mr.  Chandler.  Then, 
as  if  fortunes,  like  misfortunes,  conic  not  singly,  he 
found  a  customer  for  some  manuscript  poems  in  a 
friend  of  Dr.  Griswold,  —  George  R.  Graham.  From 
him  Bayard  received  twenty  dollars,  making  the 
round  sum  of  one  hundred  and  forty  dollars  with 
which  to  begin  his  journey  to  the  Old  World.  Bay- 


40  LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

ard  now  felt  independent  and  happy.  At  least  he 
could  get  across  the  Atlantic  Ocean.  He  might  have 
to  work  as  a  compositor,  or  as  a  common  laborer,  or 
even  beg  for  his  bread  after  he  arrived  on  the  other 
side ;  he  did  not  know,  and  seemed  to  care  but  little. 
He  had  encountered  a  hard  fortune  here,  and  con 
quered,  and  he  felt  sure  that  he  could  do  as  well 
there.  Happy,  proud  day  was  it  for  him  when  he 
returned  with  the  money  to  his  home  at  Kenuett 
Square.  Sad  day  for  Mary  Agnew.  But  as  she  and 
Bayard  were  only  playmates  and  schoolmates,  she 
must  not  appear  to  be  especially  grieved. 

The  next  thing  to  be  done  was  to  obtain  a  passport 
from  the  United  States  Government.  It  could  only 
be  obtained  in  Washington,  and  as  they  could  not 
afford  the  expense  of  the  stages,  Frank  and  Bayard 
started  for  Washington  on  foot.  It  would  seem  as 
if  such  a  journey  of  one  hundred  and  twenty  miles, 
—  in  which  they  walked  thirty  miles  to  Port  Deposit, 
thence  in  a  rickety  tow-boat  to  Baltimore,  and  from 
that  city  to  Washington,  they  tramped  all  night  with 
out  food  or  drink,  —  would  have  discouraged  any  one 
from  attempting  to  walk  through  the  countries  of 
Europe.  For  they  must  have  returned  from  this  tirst 
walk  footsore  and  lame  in  every  joint.  Yet  they 
came  back  as  full  of  hope  as  when  they  started  out, 
having  seen  Mr.  Calhoun,  then  Secretary  of  State, 
and  many  other  celebrities  then  inhabiting  the  capital 
city, — June,  1844. 


PARTING   WITH   FRIENDS.  41 

Oh !  those  farewells !  To  the  parents  who  had 
watched  over  him  so  long,  it  seemed  like  losing  him 
forever,  so  far  away  and  mythical  did  Europe  seem  to 
be.  Their  lips  consented,  but  their  hearts  kept  rap 
ping  no,  no,  no,  in  rebellious  throbs.  The  brothers 
and  sisters  wept  with  a  grief  never  before  so  keen, 
and  a  dread  never  before  so  deep.  But  to  the  youth, 
before  whom  the  great  unexplored  world  lay  in  its 
beauty,  and  who  could  not  then  realize,  as  he  did  so 
keenly  afterwards,  that  in  all  the  world  he  would  find 
no  spot  so  sweet  and  interesting  to  him  as  would  be 
the  one  he  was  leaving,  it  was  a  joy  over  which  the 
sadness  of  parting  for  a  time  was  but  as  the  shadow 
of  a  cloud  on  the  summer  sea.  High  hopes,  great 
aspirations,  drove  him  along,  while  romantic  castles 
and  fortresses,  brilliant  rivers,  heavenly  gardens, 
majestic  mountains,  wise  people,  delightful  music, 
gorgeous  galleries  of  art,  and  indescribable  lands 
capes,  beckoned  him  to  come.  Giddy  with  anticipa 
tion,  trembling  with  conflicting  emotions,  he  stood  in 
the  shade  of  the  oak  and  the  hickory  of  the  old  home 
that  morning,  bidding  his  loved  ones  good-by.  He 
was  a  hero.  There  was  the  sense  of  present  loss,  and 
of  danger  to  come  ;  but  it  weighed  not  with  him  as 
against  the  great  ambition  of  his  life. 

Did  he  bid  Mary  Agnew  farewell?  Perhaps  !  The 
mature  poet  will  tell  us,  in  his  own  sweet  way,  l:y  and 


42  LIFE  OF  IJAYABD  TAYLOB. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

rhe    Contest    with    Enemies.  —  Departure    from    Philadelphia.  — 
Friendship  of  N.  P.  Willis.  —  Discouraging  Reception.  —  Inter 
view  with  Horace  Greeley. —  Searching  for  a  Vessel. —  Steerage 
Passage  for  Liverpool.  —  Fellow  Passengers.  —  The  Voyage.  - 
The  Beauty  of  the  Sea.  —  Landing  at  Liverpool. 

"  How  rosed  with  morn,  how  angel  innocent, 

Thus  looking  back,  I  see  my  lightsome  youth! 
Each  thought  a  wondrous  bounty  Heaven  had  lent, 

And  each  illusion  was  a  radiant  truth ! 
Each  sorrow  dead  bequeathed  a  young  desire, 

Each  hovering  doubt,  or  cloud  of  discontent, 
So  interfused  with  Faith's  pervading  fire, 
That  to  achieve  seemed  light  as  to  aspire ! " 

—  Taylor. 

BAYARD  was  not  an  exception  to  the  universal  rule, 
found  true  by  nearly  every  scholar,  and  every  success 
ful  statesman.  He  was  ridiculed  by  a  thoughtless 
throng.  His  success  in  the  matters  he  undertook  sub 
jected  him  to  the  slights  and  backbiting  of  envious 
simpletons,  and  everywhere  the  looks  and  shrugs  of 
his  acquaintances  told  with  what  contempt  they 
looked  upon  his  endeavors  to  be  a  poet,  and  to  see 
the  world.  It  was  the  same  old  trial,  and  only  those 
young  men  who,  like  Bayard,  are  able  to  stand  firm 
against  ridicule  and  envy,  ever  reach  the  acropolis  of 


STARTING   FOR   EUROFE.  43 

their  ambition.  No  record  has  been  found  of  the 
effect  these  things  had  upon  Bayard,  or  upon  the  two 
noble  young  men  who  were  his  companions ;  but  we 
do  know  that  they  turned  not  from  their  purpose. 
Bayard's  sensitive  nature,  his  warm  heart,  his  innocent 
ambition  must  have  felt  the  stings,  and,  at  times  in 
after  life,  he  spoke  as  one  who  had  not  forgotten. 
How  grand  and  honorable  the  exceptional  appearance 
of  the  few  who  were  generous  and  faithful  to  the  poor 
boy  on  the  threshold  of  his  life  ! 

Taking  with  them  only  such  baggage  as  they  could 
carry  in  their  hands,  these  three  young  men,  —  Bay 
ard  Taylor,  Franklin  Taylor,  and  Barclay  Pennock.  — 
started  for  New  York  the  last  week  in  June,  1844. 
There  had  been  but  little  delay,  notwithstanding  the 
day  for  departure  had  been  set  before  Bayard  knew 
where  the  funds  were  to  come  from  to  defray  his 
expenses. 

There  was  a  strong  hope  in  Bayard's  mind  that  Mr. 
N.  P.  Willis,  who  had  written  him  such  encouraging 
letters,  would  be  able  to  assist  him  in  securing 
employment  as  a  travelling  correspondent  of  some 
of  the  New  York  daily  papers.  Mr.  Willis  was 
widely  known,  and  greatly  respected  in  New  York, 
and,  on  the  arrival  of  Bayard  at  his  office,  he  entered 
heartily  into  the  work  of  procuring  such  a  situation 
for  his  young  friend.  But  foreign  correspondence 
had  been  as  much  overdone  in  New  York  as  in  Phil 
adelphia.  So  many  writers  had  tried  to  make  a  name 


44  LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

by  imitating  the  first  successful  correspondents,  that 
the  people  were  weary  with  the  monotonous  story. 
It  was  as  well  known  then  as  it  is  now,  that  copyists 
and  imitators  are  not  what  a  live,  active,  original  news 
paper  requires.  Correspondence  from  almost  any 
where  could  be  made  interesting  and  amusing,  if  the 
writer  would  only  write  naturally,  and  describe  the 
things  he  saw  in  just  the  light  they  appeared  to  him. 
No  one  thought  that  this  boy  would  do  anything  else 
but  follow  in  the  old  track.  Hence  they  wished  for 
none  of  his  writings.  One  gentleman  told  him  that 
it  was  useless  to  make  engagements,  for  a  youth, 
going  into  a  strange  country  in  that  hap-hazard  way, 
would  not  live  to  write  any  letters.  Mr.  Willis' 
generous  assistance  availed  Bayard  nothing  with  a 
people  who  had  so  often  been  compelled  to  form  their 
own  opinion  of  the  people  they  wished  to  employ,  and 
who  considered  themselves  the  best  judges. 

In  the  editorial  room  of  the  New  York  "  Tribune  " 
sat  the  editor,  whose  name  is  being  written  higher,  on 
the  list  of  America's  great  men,  by  every  succeeding 
year.  To  his  quick  eye,  there  was  promise  of  noble 
things  in  the  countenance  of  the  boy.  He  had  himself 
been  a  venturesome,  ambitious,  penniless  boy,  and, 
like  Bayard,  he  had  boldly  pushed  his  boat  into  the 
dangerous  billows.  He  may  have  remembered  Ben 
jamin  Franklin's  hazardous  trip,  as  a  boy,  to  Phil 
adelphia,  for  Bayard  was  mentioned  by  Mr.  Willis  as 
ft  young  man  from  the  Quaker  city.  Whatever  may 


HORACE    GREELEY.  45 

have  been  his  thoughts,  he  treated  Bayard  with  his 
usual  consideration,  and  informed  the  youth  that  he 
was  ready  to  publish  and  pay  for  all  letters  that  were 
worth  inserting  in  the  "Tribune."  But  he  solemnly 
warned  Bayard  against  attempting  to  write  anything 
until  he  knew  enough  about  the  country  to  write 
intelligently.  Bayard  told  Mr.  Greeley  that  he  would 
try  to  get  acquainted  with  the  people  of  Germany  and 
their  institutions,  and,  as  soon  as  he  felt  competent, 
would  send  a  few  letters  for  Mr.  Greeley's  criticism. 
The  busy  editor  nodded  as  the  boy  thanked  him, 
bade  him  good-day,  and,  doubtless,  instantly  forgot 
there  had  ever  been  such  a  visitor ;  and  left  the  fact 
in  oblivion,  until  it  was  brought  to  mind  some  months 
afterwards  by  the  arrival  of  a  letter  from  Germany. 

Mr.  Willis  told  Bayard,  as  he  said  afterwards,  to 
keep  up  his  courage,  and  go  forward:  "The  way  to 
Valhalla  is  broad  and  smooth  to  the  hero,  but  narrow 
and  dangerous  to  the  coward."  It  appears  by  the 
brief  account  which  is  given  in  the  introduction  to 
his  "  Views  Afoot,"  published  by  Putnam  &  Sons, 
New  York,  that  the  party  had  a  difficult  task  to  find 
a  vessel  in  which  the  accommodations,  rates  of  pas 
sage-,  and  port  of  destination  were  within  their  plan. 
They  intended  at  first  to  take  a  vessel  direct  for  the 
Continent ;  but  in  such  of  them  as  were  bound  for 
continental  ports,  the  fare  was  too  high.  They 
were,  however,  on  the  point  of  taking  passage  in  a 
Dutch  sailing  vessel,  the  consignees  of  which  were 


46  LIFE    OF   BAYARD    TAYLOR. 

acquaintances  of  Mr.  Willis,  and  consequently  made 
some  reduction  in  the  fares,  when  an  opportunity 
oifered  itself  for  a  steerage  passage  in  a  vessel  bound 
for  Liverpool.  In  that  way,  they  would  be  conveyed 
to  England  for  the  sum  of  twenty-four  dollars.  But 
such  a  passage  !  Think  of  it,  ye  disconsolate,  fault 
finding  tourists,  who  lie  in  the  soft  beds  of  a  steamer, 
with  fresh  air  and  plenty  of  light !  Think  of  it,  yo 
sufferers  that  occupy  the  great  forward  hall  of  a 
steamship,  and  who  curse  your  fate  that  you  are 
compelled  to  take  a  steerage  passage  !  What  would 
you  do  or  say  should  you  be  crowded  into  a  cabin  of 
rough  planks,  eight  feet  long,  and  seven  feet  wide, 
with  nine  passengers  and  eight  narrow  berths,  in  a 
clumsy,  dirty  little  sailing  vessel?  Yet  this  was  the 
young  adventurer's  choice,  rather  than  expend  the 
small  sum  of  twenty-five  dollars  from  his  small  store. 
These  three  boys  were  compelled,  by  the  terms  of 
passage,  to  furnish  their  own  provisions  and  bedding, 
and  the  fact  that  the  unexpected  honesty  and  kindness 
of  a  warehouse  clerk  prevented  their  starting  off  with 
out  enough  food  to  last  through  the  voyage,  is  another 
proof  that  "fortune  favors  the  brave." 

As  there  was  one  more  adult  passenger  hr  1  <e 
steerage  than  there  were  berths,  Bayard  and  his  co>  sin 
Frank  good-naturedly  agreed  to  occupy  one  together. 
To  the  writer,  who  has  frequently  crossed  the  treacher 
ous  Atlantic,  there  seems  to  be  no  experience  so  in 
conceivably  miserable  and  sickening  as  a  steerage 


AT   SEA.  47 

passage  in  a  sailing  vessel  must  be  to  the  landsman. 
But  when  to  the  usual  discomforts  of  dampness  dark 
ness,  sea-sickness,  and  strange  company,  are  added 
the  cramps  caused  by  being  packed  with  another 
passenger  like  a  sandwich  into  a  narrow  box,  and  the 
absence  of  fresh  air,  no  tortures  of  the  Inquisition 
would  seem  to  equal  it.  Bayard  often  referred  to  his 
first  discouraging  sensation  of  sea-sickness.  Coming,  as 
it  always  does  to  the  passenger,  just  as  he  is  taking  his 
last  sad  look  at  the  fading  shores  of  his  native  country 
it  is  always  a  disheartening  experience.  Bayard  shed 
tears  as  he  began  to  realize  that  he  was  actually  afloat 
upon  the  wide  ocean,  and  could  not  if  he  would 
return  to  the  land.  He  has  since  well  said,  that  had 
he  known  more  of  life,  and  the  dangers  of  travel, 
his  alarm  and  discouragement  would  have  been  much 
greater  than  they  were,  and  of  longer  duration. 
Youth  borrows  no  trouble ;  hence  it  is  happy  and 
victorious. 

Of  that  voyage,  and  its  sufferings,  in  the  ship 
"  Oxford,"  beginning  on  the  first  day  of  July,  and 
ending  at  Liverpool  on  the  twenty-ninth  of  the  same 
month,  he  made  but  brief  mention  ;  yet  his  experience 
in  getting  the  ship's  cook  to  boil  their  potatoes,  in 
eating  their  meals  of  pilot-bread,  and  in  the  company  of 
their  English,  Scotch,  Irish,  and  German  cabin-mates, 
was  most  charmingly  told  in  his  letters  to  the  "  Gazette  " 
and  to  the  "Post,"  as  well  as  in  "Views  Afoot,"  to 
which  reference  has  already  been  made.  His  Gcrrnm 


48  LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

companion  was  not  only  a  social  advantage,  but  fur 
nished  the  adventurous  youths  with  a  pleasant  oppor 
tunity  to  get  some  of  the  German  phrases,  and  to  hear 
descriptions  of  the  country  they  were  to  visit.  They 
were  also  favored  by  the  captain's  permission  to  use 
books  from  the  cabin  library,  which  contained  several 
entertaining  books  of  travel  and  of  fiction.  The  closing 
days  of  the  voyage  appear  to  have  been  pleasant  in 
some  respects,  for  the  beauty  of  the  sea  made  a  lasting 
impression  upon  his  mind,  and  might  possibly  have 
been  still  in  his  memory  when  he  wrote  the  lines  in  his 
"Poems  of  Home  and  Travel,"  running  thus  :  — 

"  The  sea  is  a  jovial  comrade, 

He  laughs  wherever  he  goes  ; 
His  merriment  shines  in  the  dimpling  lines 

That  wrinkle  his  hale  repose  ; 
He  lays  himself  down  at  the  feet  of  the  Sun, 

And  shakes  all  over  with  glee, 
And  the  broad-backed  billows  fall  faint  on  the  shore 

In  the  mirth  of  the  mighty  Sea." 

It  may  be  that  the  beauty  and  joy  of  the  sea  ap 
peared  more  remarkable  because  of  the  great  contrast 
between  its  free  and  wild  life,  and  the  crowded  and 
stifled  existence  of  the  mortals  who  witnessed  its  gam 
bols.  At  all  events  he  was  not  so  delighted  with  the 
sea  tint  he  could  not  shout  with  the  others,  when  the 
dark  outlines  of  Ireland's  mountains  appeared  through 
the  mist.  The  sleepless  nights,  the  company  of  howl 
ing  Iowa  Indians,  the  musty  cabin,  the  terrible  nausea  - 


ARRIVAL    AT   LIVERPOOL.  49 

all  were  forgotten  in  the  sight  of  land,  and  as  the  goal 
grew  nearer,  the  more  like  a  dream  became  all  the 
disagreeable  experiences  of  the  voyage,  until  when, 
after  tacking  from  northern  Ireland  to  Scotland,  from 
Scotland  to  Ireland,  and  from  Ireland  to  the  Isle  of 
Man,  they  sailed  up  the  Mersey  to  Liverpool,  the  in- 
conveniences  of  the  voyage  had  wholly  faded  out,  and 
only  the  few  agreeable  incidents  remained  a  reality. 
They  passed  the  dreaded  officials  of  the  custom-house 
without  difficulty,  and  by  the  advice  of  a  "  wild  Eng 
lishman,"  who  was  one  of  their  travelling  companions, 
they  went  to  the  Chorley  Tavern,  and  there  enjoyed  a 
bountiful  dinner,  as  only  passengers  by  sea  can  enjoy 
them  when  first  they  step  on  shore.  Bayard  was  im 
pressed  by  the  sombre  appearance  of  the  city,  find 
amused  by  the  use  of  the  middle  of  the  streets  for  side 
walks,  and  by  the  pink  each  man  carried  in  his  button 
hole. 


50  LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 


CHAPTER  VH. 

Departure  from  Liverpool. — Travels  Second-Class. — Arrival  at  Port 
Rush.  —  The  Giant's  Causeway. — Lost  and  in  Danger. — Duu- 
luce  Castle.  —  Effect  upon  the  Travellers.  —  Condition  of  the 
Irish.  —  Arrival  at  Dumbarton.  —  Scaling  the  Castle  Walls.— 
Walk  to  Loch  Lomond.  —  Ascent  of  Ben  Lomond.  —  Loch 
Katrine.  —  Visit  to  Stirling. 

BAYARD  and  his  companions,  including  the  German 
student,  with  whom  there  had  sprung  up  an  intimate 
friendship,  left  Liverpool  on  the  same  day  on  which 
they  arrived  there,  having  found  that  they  would  reach 
Scotland  via  the  Giant's  Causeway,  as  soon  as  they 
could  by  waiting  for  the  more  direct  line.  With  an 
exercise  of  common-sense,  such  as  characterizes  too 
few  Americans  in  this  day  of  fashionable  travel,  they 
took  passage  second-class,  finding  themselves  in  no 
way  the  worse  for  the  temporary  inconvenience,  while 
their  fare  was  but  one-sixth  the  amount  of  a  first-class 
passage.  It  was  not  a  comfortable  night's  voyage  on 
the  way  from  Liverpool  to  Port  Rush,  in  the  north  of 
Ireland,  starting  at  ten  o'clock  in  the  evening,  and 
arriving  at  eleven  o'clock  the  next  night.  It  may 
be  that  the  cold  and  wet,  the  crowd  of  Irish  passen 
gers,  the  unvaried  diet  of  bread  and  cheese,  served  the 
purpose  of  making  the  shores  and  bluffs  more  attractive. 


GIANT'S  CAUSEWAY.  51 

as  the  mind  naturally  seeks  and  usually  obtains  some 
comfort  and  recreation  in  the  most  doleful  surround 
ings.  It  is  a  glorious  thing  to  look  upon  those  basaltic 
hexagons  of  the  Giant's  Causeway,  under  any  circum 
stances.  Those  enormous  natural  columns,  set  side  by 
side,  so  close  as  to  make  a  floor  along  their  tops,  so 
strange,  so  unaccountably  symmetrical,  fill  the  soul  with 
awe,  and  half  persuade  the  least  credulous  beholder 
that  there  were  giants  in  the  days  of  yore,  and  that 
they  really  did  build  a  thoroughfare  of  these  huge 
prisms  across  to  Scotland.  Any  traveller  contem 
plates  those  matchless  piles  with  surprise,  and  every 
sojourner  is  delighted  beyond  estimation  by  the  con 
tour  and  echoes  of  the  vast  caverns,  into  which  the 
ocean  rolls  with  such  enchanting  combinations  of  sound 
and  motion.  But  to  young  men  who  had  seen  but 
little  of  the  world  and  its  natural  wonders,  and  who 
had  suffered  a  kind  of  martyrdom  for  the  sake  of  visit 
ing  them,  those  resounding  caverns,  and  those  mighty 
ruins  of  gigantic  natural  temples,  must  have  been 
inspiring  beyond  measure.  Every  traveller  recalls 
with  the  most  clear  and  grateful  remembrance,  the  first 
landscapes  of  Europe,  on  which  rest  his  ocean- weary 
eyes.  To  these  young  men  the  landscapes  were  about 
their  only  joy,  and  they  appreciated  them  accordingly. 
Bayard  seems  to  have  been  very  enthusiastic.  He 
scrutinized  everything  and  questioned  everybody.  He 
let  nothing  pass  him  unnoticed,  although  in  his  books 
he  left  much  unmentioned.  He  clambered  into  the 


52  LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

lofty  recesses  of  the  Causeway,  and  let  himself  down 
into  the  strange  niches.  He  halloed  in  the  caves  for 
the  thundering  echoes ;  he  drank  three  times  at  the 
magical  Giant's  Well.  He  strayed  from  the  highway 
that  led  from  Port  Rush  to  the  Causeway,  to  look  into 
the  weird  nooks  which  the  sea  has  carved  in  the 
mutable  shore.  Dunlucc  Castle,  with  its  broken  walls 
and  ghastly  towers  —  home  of  proud  Lord  Antrim  — 
and  home  as  well  of  that  family's  terrible  banshee,  was 
the  first  old  ruin  which  Bayard  visited.  It  stands  on 
the  verge  of  the  cragged  cliffs,  with  the  sea  beating 
about  its  base,  and  bellowing  in  the  cavern  under  it. 
It  is  located  near  the  highway  which  leads  from  Port 
Rush  to  the  Causeway.  Across  the  narrow  footway, 
and  into  these  ruins,  Bayard  rushed  most  eagerly. 
The  same  old  man  who  now  shows  travellers  the  battle 
ments,  and  tells  to  wondering  hundreds  the  tales  of 
tournament  and  banqueting-hall,  was  there  then,  and 
rehearsed  the  tale  to  him.  The  boy  is  gone.  But 
the  old  man,  whom  Bayard  mentions  as  an  old  man 
then,  lives  on  in  his  dull  routine,  yet  living  less  in  a 
half  century  than  Bayard  lived  in  a  single  year. 

All  this  Avas  fresh  and  glorious  to  the  youth,  and 
gave  him  a  very  pleasant  foretaste  of  the  rich  experi 
ences  in  store  for  him.  But,  as  if  the  fates  conspired 
to  chill  his  intellectual  joys  with  physical  discomforts, 
a  rain  came  pouring  upon  them  as  they  returned,  the 
wind  blew  in  fierce  gusts,  darkness,  deep  and  black, 
settled  upon  the  land ;  they  lost  their  way,  and  floun- 


IRISH   PEASANTRY.  53 

dercd  about  in  muddy  ravines,  and  barely  escaped 
destruction  as  they  trod  the  edges  of  the  precipices 
above  the  wildest  of  seas.  They  became  separated 
from  each  other,  and  the  howling  of  winds  and  waves 
among  the  crags  was  so  hideous  that  they  could  not 
for  a  long  time  hear  each  other's  call,  and  the  worst  01 
fears  for  each  other  were  added  to  their  own  dismay. 
But  they  somehow  blundered  upon  the  path  as  it 
emerged  from  the  wild  rocks,  and  together  walked 
the  beach  to  their  hotel,  soaking  and  half  frozen. 
But  all  those  trying  experiences  fade  when  the  skin  is 
dry,  and  the  sweet  sleep  of  healthy  youth  comes  with 
its  comforting  oblivion  ;  only  the  gorgeous  landscapes, 
and  the  romantic  places,  like  the  memories  of  boyhood, 
remain  to  shape  the  dreams. 

Bayard  was  shocked  by  the  miserable  condition  of 
the  Irish  peasantry,  and  his  description  of  their  huts, 
and  their  appearance,  given  in  his  letters,  shows  great 
sympathy  for  their  distress,  and  great  disgust  at  their 
degraded  customs.  On  his  way  to  Greenock  from 
Port  Rush,  he  fell  in  with  a  company  of  them,  who 
chanced  to  take  the  same  steamer,  and  he  did  not 
enjoy  their  drunken  and  beastly  songs  and  riots.  But 
on  his  trip  from  Greenock,  up  the  Clyde  to  Dumbar 
ton,  he  had  more  acceptable  companionship,  and  in 
his  book  he  refers,  with  a  most  touching  simplicity,  to 
the  music  of  a  strolling  musici'in  on  board  the  boat, 
who  played  "Hail  Columbia"  and  "Home,  Sweet 
Home." 


54  LIFE    OF   BAYAiiD    TAYLOR. 

Old  Scotland  !  Noble  old  hills  !  Charming  lakes, 
and  enchanting  valleys !  How  like  the  awakened 
memories  of  loved  faces,  they  come  back  to  us  when 
we  hear  the  word  "Dumbarton"  !  What  exciting  tales 
of  Baliol,  of  Wallace,  of  Bruce,  of  Queen  Mary,  of 
Cromwell,  come  again  as  we  recall  the  sugar-loaf 
rock,  on  which  the  remnant  of  the  old  fortress  stands  ! 
Those  bright  youths  must  have  feasted  on  the  associa 
tions  connected  with  Dumbarton.  As  they  peered 
from  Wallace's  tower,  handled  Wallace's  sword,  and 
gazed  over  the  wide  landscape,  with  the  sites  oi 
battle-fields,  castles,  palaces,  the  home  of  Bruce,  the 
cottage  of  Wallace,  the  beautiful  valleys  of  the  Clyde 
and  Leven,  the  majestic  Ben  Lomond,  and  the  crests 
of  the  Highlands,  they  grew  in  intellectual  stature, 
and  breathed  a  moral  atmosphere  as  pure  as  the  air 
that  encircled  the  flagstaff  at  the  summit.  There  is 
no  education  like  the  actual  contact  with  the  scenes 
connected  with  heroic  self-sacrifice,  to  train  young 
men  for  patriots  and  poets.  No  discipline  is  more 
necessary  to  the  development  of  a  broad  and  virtuous 
manhood  among  any  class  of  young  men,  than  studious 
travel  in  foreign  countries.  To  young  Bayard,  lacking 
other  culture  than  the  few  years  at  the  district  school, 
the  few  months  at  the  academy,  and  the  studious 
perusal  of  histories  and  poems,  this  experience  was 
of  vast  importance.  Its  beneficial  effects  were  seen 
throughout  his  life,  and  frequently  show  themselves 
in  his  editorials,  poems,  novels,  and  narratives. 


DUMBARTON.  55 

At  Dumbarton,  Bayard  had  his  first  narrow  escape, 
and  he  said  that  when  he  reached  the  ground,  after  dar 
ing  to  scale,  for  flowers,  the  precipice  up  which  Wallace 
climbed  with  his  followers  for  glory  and  fatherland,  he 
was  in  such  a  tremor  of  terror,  in  view  of  his  having 
so  narrowly  escaped  death,  that  he  could  scarcely 
speak.  The  unusual  strength  of  a  little  tuft  of  wild 
grass,  growing  in  a  crevice  of  the  cliff,  had  saved  him 
from  being  dashed  to  pieces.  It  must  have  given  him 
a  very  vivid  impression  of  the  daring  feats  of  those  old 
Scotch  warriors,  who  not  only  faced  these  perpendicular 
walls,  but  fearlessly  encountered  the  foes  at  the  top. 

From  Dumbarton,  Bayard  and  his  friends  walked 
through  the  valley  of  the  River  Leven  to  Loch 
Lomond.  All  his  letters  and  contributions  to  the 
newspapers  speak  of  this  walk  as  one  of  the  most 
enjoyable  of  all  his  rambles.  In  his  "Views  Afoot," 
with  which  every  reader  is  or  should  be  familiar,  he 
mentions  it  as  a  glorious  walk.  The  pastoral  beauty 
of  the  fields,  the  clearness  of  the  stream,  the  ivy- 
grown  towers,  the  dense  forests,  the  early  home  of 
Smollett,  whose  dashing  pen  astonished  the  kingdom 
in  1748,  the  summer  parks  of  Scottish  noblemen,  the 
mild,  soothing  August  sunshine,  were  a  combination 
rarely  found,  and  when  found  as  rarely  appreciated. 

These  young  travellers  had  been  diligent  readers, 
and,  when  the  steamer  hurried  them  over  the  lake, 
the  appearance  of  Ben  Lomond  and  Ben  Voirlich,  of 
"Bull's  Rock,"  and  Rob  Roy's  Cave,  of  Inversnaid 


NIV£RSITY 


56  LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

and  Glen  Falloch,  called  up  the  shades  of  the  Camp* 
bells,  Macgregors,  Malcolms,  Rothesays,  Macfarlanes, 
Macphersons ;  making  each  beach  and  rock  along 
Loch  Lomond  a  feature  of  romantic  interest. 

With  youthful  enthusiasm,  Bayard  clambered  to  the 
rugged  top  of  Ben  Lomond,  having  waded  through 
deep  morass  and  thorny  thicket,  to  reach  it,  and,  from 
that  lookout,  gazed  around  on  the  peaks  of  lesser 
mountains,  down  upon  the  sweet  Lomond  lake,  away 
to  the  oceans  on  either  side  of  Scotland,,  discerning 
the  smoke  over  Glasgow,  the  dark  plains  of  Ayr, 
and,  but  for  a  rnist,  the  embattled  towers  of  Stirling 
and  Edinburgh.  After  a  short  stop,  he  descended 
with  his  old  companions,  and  a  new  one  (he  was  con 
stantly  finding  new  friends),  along  the  slippery,  stony 
slopes ;  and,  after  a  dinner  of  oatmeal  cakes  and  milk 
at  a  cottage  near  the  base,  trudged  and  waded  on 
through  that  wild  tract  of  woodland  and  swamp  to 
Loch  Katrine.  There  was  the  home  of  poetry.  The 
great  forests,  through  which  the  Clan-Alpine  horns  had 
echoed,  the  dense  forest,  through  which  the  scarfs  and 
bows  did  gleam  in  the  old  days  of  the  Highland  clans, 
had  disappeared.  The  blossoming  heather  and  bare 
rocks  made  a  sorry  substitute.  But  to  Bayard, 
whose  life  was  set  to  poetry,  who  had  so  often  studied 
and  declaimed  of  Fitz-James  and  Roderick  Dhu,  and 
who  had  often  dreamed  of  the  Ellen's  Isle,  and  the 
gathering  clans,  as  Walter  Scott  described  them,  it 
must  have  been  an  enchanted  spot.  One  may  recito 


LOCH    KATRINE.  57 

and  analyze  for  half  a  century  that  poem,  and  may  flatter 
himself  that  he  has  detected  all  its  beauty,  and  under 
stands  all  its  historic  references ;  but  one  hour  on 
Loch  Katrine  is  worth  more  than  all  that.  There  the 
reader  lives  the  poem,  and  it  is  a  part  of  his  being 
ever  more.  Bayard  felt  compensated  there  for  all  the 
sufferings,  by  sea  and  by  land,  which  he  had  experienced. 
He  gazed  fondly  upon  the  glassy,  land-locked  water ; 
he  studied  closely  the  features,  manners,  and  songs  of 
the  Highland  boatmen,  those  descendants  of  the  old 
clans ;  he  sketched,  with  the  keenest  interest,  Ben 
Ann,  Ben  Venue,  the  gate  of  the  Trosachs,  and  the 
curved  lines  of  the  sandy  shore,  and  he  awoke  the 
echoes  at  the  Goblin's  Cave  and  Beal-nam-bo.  Rich 
experiences  !  In  such  does  the  youth  develop  fast  into 
a  cultured  manhood. 

From  Loch  Katrine,  the  party  walked  by  way  of 
Loch  Vennachar,  Coilantogle  Ford,  and  Ben  Ledi,  to 
Doime,  —  the  home  of  royalty  during  the  sixteenth 
century,  and  whose  old  castle  is  still  a  majestic  ruin. 
Thence  through  the  plains  to  Stirling  Castle,  crowned 
and  battle-honored,  and  looking  down  on  the  valleys 
of  the  Forth  and  Allan  Water,  and  out  upon  the 
bloody  fields  of  Bannockburn  and  Sheriff-muir. 
Having  inspected  the  dungeons  and  halls  of  the 
castle,  looked  with  horror  upon  the  spot  where 
royalty  murdered  a  friend,  and  threw  the  body  to  the 
dogs  ;  *and  after  contemplating  the  grave  of  the  girlish 
martyrs,  they  hastily  took  the  shortest  route  to  Glas- 


58  LIFE    OF   BAYARD    TAYLOR. 


,  and  thence  to  the  home  of  Burns,  where  a  great 
celebration,  or  memorial  gathering,  was  to  be  held,  to 
honor  the  memory  of  the  "  rustic  bard,"  on  the  banks 
of  his  own  "  Bonnie  Doon." 


VISIT   TO   AYR.  59 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

\  tsit  to  the  Home  of  Burns.  — The  Poet's  Cottage.— The  Cele 
bration.  —  Walks  and  Rides  in  the  Rain.  —  Edinburgh.  —  Its 
Associations.  —  The  Teachings  of  History.  —  Home  of  Drum- 
mond.  —  Abbotsford.  —  Melrose.  —  Jedburgh  Abbey.  —  New- 
castle-on-Tyne. 

BAYARD'S  visit  to  Ayr  was  the  first  of  a  long  series 
of  like  visitations  to  the  homes  of  celebrated  poets,  and 
being  then  a  novel  experience  was  doubly  enjoyed.  It 
may  be  that  the  similar  occupation,  and  like  inspiration, 
which  characterized  both  himself  and  Burns,  made  the 
spot  more  attractive.  Had  they  not  both  followed  the 
plough  through  the  thick  sward  ?  Had  not  both  milked 
the  cows ;  drove  the  horses  to  the  water ;  planted  the 
corn ;  dug  up  the  weeds ;  cut  the  hay,  and  all  the 
while  sang  and  recited  original  verses  ?  Had  he  not 
been  ridiculed  by  his  playmates,  and  sneered  at  by  his 
neighbors,  in  common  with  that  great  poet  of  Scotland  ? 
To  look  over  the  farm  on  which  Burns  toiled ;  to  be 
shown  the  spot  on  which  it  is  claimed  Burns  over 
turned — 

"  That  wee  bit  heap  o'  leaves  and  stibble," 

the   home    of  the    "mousie,"    and    to   be    shown  the 
cottage  he  was   born   in,    and  the  scenes   which   m- 


O  LIFE    OF    BAYARD    TAYLOR. 

spired  his  songs,  interesting  as  they  are  to  the  writer 
of  prose,  must  have  been  peculiarly  satisfactory  to 
him.  He  does  not  speak  of  it,  however,  with  the 
enthusiasm  one  would  expect,  and  it  is  quite  prob 
able  that  he  was  not  yet  wholly  inured  to  the  incon 
veniences  of  a  wet  climate,  and  could  not  think  or 
muse  in  a  crowd  as  satisfactorily  as  when  dry  and  alone. 
When  he  arrived  in  the  town,  the  streets  were  filled 
by  an  immense  throng,  and  there  could  have  been  little 
satisfaction  in  trying  to  fall  into  poetical  dreams.  It 
is  a  great  satisfaction  to  those  of  Bayard's  friends  who 
have  loved  him,  and  put  their  faith  in  him,  to  know 
that  he  put  himself  on  record  in  some  of  his  early  let 
ters,  in  no  light  terms,  as  having  an  unutterable 
disgust  for  the  drunken  brawling  which  went  on  in  the 
name  of  Burns  that  day  in  Ayr.  He  felt,  with  great 
keenness,  the  disgrace  which  every  American  feels  that 
it  is  to  Scotland,  that  the  old  cottage,  so  sacred  for  its 
associations  as  the  birth-place  of  Burns,  should  be 
occupied  as  a  drinking-saloon,  and  be  crowded  with 
intoxicated  vagabonds.  It  seemed  like  making  a  dog- 
kennel  of  a  chapel  in  St.  Paul's.  Anything  but  genius, 
intellect,  or  wit  characterizes  the  crowd  that  usually 
frequent  Burns'  Cottage  on  such  days  ;  and  it  is  said  to 
have  been,  in  1844,  the  resort  of  a  more  beastly  class 
than  are  those  wretches  who  get  intoxicated  there  now, 
and,  naturally,  on  such  a  great  day  as  that  on  which 
Bayard  visited  it,  every  Scotsman  who  indulged  at  all 
became  furiously  drunk.  Besides  that  inconvenience, 


THE    BURNS    CELEBRATION.  61 

the  trustees  of  the  monument,  on  the  day  when  so 
many  thousands  came  to  see  it  and  its  treasures,  voted 
to  lock  it  up  ;  and  Bayard,  with  the  others,  was  shut 
out  from  its  interesting  collection  of  relics  and  memen 
toes.  Still  further,  it  was  so  arranged  by  the  marshals 
of  the  occasion,  that  the  grand  stand,  with  its  literary 
feast  and  the  ceremonies  appurtenant  to  the  occasion, 
were  shut  out  from  the  populace  to  whom  the  poet 
sang,  and  Bayard  being  only  a  strange  boy,  with  no 
more  of  a  title  than  Robert  Burns  had,  was  obliged  to 
content  himself  with  a  seat  on  the  ridge  of  the  "  brig 
o'  Doon."  He  did  see  old  Alloway  kirk,  and  heard 
its  bell.  He  saw  within  its  ruined  walls  the  rank 
weeds,  and  without,  the  graves  of  the  poet's  ancestry. 
He  did  have  a  cheerful  pedestrian  tour ;  for  the  home 
of  Burns,  with  Alloway  kirk  and  the  bonnie  Doon,  an; 
three  miles  from  the  city  of  Ayr  in  open  country. 
He  saw  the  sister  and  sons  of  the  poet.  He  heard  the 
assembled  thousands  sing,  "Ye  banks  and  braes  o' 
bonnie  Doon."  He  saw  a  grandson  of  Tain  O'Shanter. 
He  had  to  walk  the  three  miles,  returning  through 
mud  and  rain,  and  he  had  to  stand  in  an  open  car, 
exposed  to  a  driving  rain-storm.,  throughout  the  two 
hours'  ride  by  railroad  to  Glasgow.  How  different  his 
reception  then,  as  a  boy  and  unknown,  from  that  which 
he  received  in  his  riper  age,  after  his  fame  was  secured, 
at  the  home  of  Germany's  greatest  poet. 

We  follow  Bayard  in  his  first  tour  in  Europe  with 
greater  detail  than  we  shall  do  with  other  journeys, 


62  LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

because  in  this  he  developed  so  much  of  that  character 
which  made  him  famous.  History  being  written,  not 
for  the  dead,  but  for  the  instruction  and  encourage 
ment  of  the  living,  should  show  clearly  how  a  great  life 
was  attained,  as  a  guide  for  similar  genius  in  the  days 
to  come.  In  a  volume  of  hasty  sketches  like  this,  we 
cannot  hope  to  do  the  work  as  thoroughly  as  we  should 
so  much  love  to  do  it ;  but  as  far  as  can  be  done  at 
this  early  day,  we  give  those  events  which  had  the 
greatest  effect  upon  his  life  as  a  writer  of  prose  and 
poetry. 

He  must  have  feasted  in  Edinburgh.  Richest  store 
house  in  Scotland,  for  all  such  as  follow  letters  !  There 
was  the  monument  to  Scott,  suggestive  of  the  most 
beautiful  in  art,  but  so  insignificant  as  a  reminder  of 
him,  while  the  walls  of  Salisbury  Crags,  and  the  dome 
of  Arthur's  Seat,  frown  beyond  and  above  it.  There 
was  Holy  rood  Palace,  with  its  stains  of  blood,  the 
couch  of  the  beautiful  queen,  and  the  collections  of 
historical  relics.  No  place  but  the  Tower  of  London 
has  received  such  attention  from  gifted  and  famous  lit 
erary  men.  Historians,  poets,  philosophers,  educators, 
preachers,  and  lawyers  have  written  and  discoursed 
upon  it.  There  was  Calton  Hill,  with  its  monuments 
to  great  men.  There  was  the  great  University,  and 
there  was  the  old  Castle,  that  sat  like  a  crown  on  the 
head  of  the  city.  All  had  been  described  by  the  most 
facile  pens.  All  were  full  of  living  interest,  and  when 
Bayard  tried  to  describe  them,  he  found  himself 


EDINBURGH    AND    ABBOTSFORD.  63 

attempting  to  compete  with  the  greatest  essayists  of 
the  English-speaking  world.  The  Grass  Market,  where 
Porteous  was  executed  ;  Cowgate  Street,,  with  its  aris 
tocratic  associations  ;  St.  Giles'  Church,  with  its  mem 
ories  of  John  Knox  and  the  Heart  of  Mid-Lothian,  were 
described  by  him,  about  which  it  is  a  kind  of  literary 
sacrilege  to  speak  in  other  than  classic  language.  It 
was  a  school  that  included  every  other,  and  Bayard 
was  an  apt  and  diligent  scholar. 

A  short  distance  from  Edinburgh,  the  pedestrians 
saw  the  birthplace  .and  hermitage  of  Drurnmond.  It 
is  a  delightful,  sequestered  chateau,  called  "  Haw- 
thornden,"  and  in  it  the  poet  wrote  nearly  all  his 
elegant  sonnets,  and  it  was  there  that  old  Ben  Jon- 
son,  after  a  walk  from  London,  was  entertained  by 
Drummond,  and  Drummond  was  in  turn  entertained 
by  Jonson.  Going  by  the  way  of  Galashiels  and 
Selkirk,  the  party  visited  Abbotsford  and  its  environs, 
where  the  immortal  Scott  lived  and  wrote.  In  the 
beautiful  mansion  which  Scott  built,  and  in  which  he 
wrote  his  most  popular  works,  they  read  his  manu 
scripts  ;  sat  at  his  desk ;  wandered  in  his  gardens  ; 
gazed  intently  over  the  wide  lawn  and  the  distant 
Tweed ;  scrutinized  the  enormous  variety  of  relics 
which  had  been  collected  by  that  antiquarian,  to  whom 
kings  and  queens  were  glad  to  become  tributary. 
Thence  they  walked  along  the  hard  and  smooth  highr 
way  to  old  Mel  rose. 

they  would  see  in  the  near  England,  and  ou 


64  LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

the  distant  continent,  which  would  enclose  a  dozen 
abbeys  such  as  this ;  Gothic  arches  they  would  enter 
which  would^nake  those  of  Melrose  seem  as  a  toy  ;  and 
ivy  and  carving  and  chancels  would  be  noticed,  so 
much  more  rich  and  beautiful,  that  these  would  sufler 
sadly  if  put  in  comparison.  But  nowhere  else  in  all 
the  wide  world  would  they  find  a  locality  made  more 
interesting  than  this.  The  associations  are  almost 
everything.  And  to  the  initiated,  the  great  magician, 
Scott,  still  speaks  in  the  groined  arches,  flowering  pil 
lars,  old  clock,  and  willow-like  windows.  Melrose 
Abbey  is  a  marked  illustration  of  the  power  of  a 
master-mind  to  give  influence,  life,  and  interest  to 
inanimate  things.  Bayard  felt  this  truth  and  men 
tioned  it.  He  read  "  The  Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel"  in 
the  shadow  of  the  arches,  and  imagined  how  the  ruins 
glowed  when  the  grave  of  the  wizard  opened  and  the 
book  was  revealed.  Who  knows  but  it  was  there,  in  the 
presence  of  those  stirring  associations,  that  he  first  con 
ceived  the  plan  which  led  him  to  make  classic  in  poetry 
and  fiction  the  fields,  hills,  and  Quakers  of  his  native 
county.  Had  he  lived  ten  years  longer  than  he  did, 
his  loved  Kennett  might  have  been  as  classic  in  song 
and  story  as  Abbotsford  itself. 

From  Melrose  the  young  pedestrians  walked  to  J^d- 
burgh,  omitting  the  delightful  excursion  to  DT'yburgh, 
but  passing  the  home  of  Pringle,  who  had  been  the 
founder  of  "  Blackwood's  Magazine,"  and  who  had 
been  also  a  poet  and  wanderer  like  Bayard.  While 


CULTURED    TRAVELLERS.  65 

passing  the  Cheviot  Hills,  the  party  met  an  excursion 
ist  in  a  carriage,  fast  asleep,  which  appeared  to  amuse 
Bayard  very  much.  Probably  he  afterwards  saw  more 
amusing  scenes  than  that,  wherein  travellers  did  not 
appreciate  their  privileges.  The  writer,  as  late  as  the 
summer  of  1878,  saw  an  American  who  had  worked 
most  industriously  to  lay  up  the  funds  to  visit  Switzer 
land,  ride  up  the  entire  ascent  of  the  glorious  Alps  at 
St.  Gothard,  on  the  top  of  a  coach,  fast  asleep.  Such 
marvels  does  the  world  of  humanity  contain.  Bayard 
did  not  sleep  when  anything  of  interest  called  upon 
him  for  investigation,  nor  when  the  beauties  of  nature 
were  to  be  enjoyed.  They  crossed  the  border  between 
Scotland  and  England,  over  the  battle-fields  of  the 
Percys,  and  by  streams  that  were  often,  in  days  past, 
actually  swollen  with  blood.  There,  "  Marmion,"  with 
all  its  tales  historical,  and  legends  mythical,  was  quoted 
and  lived  as  only  the  cultured  traveller  can  live  it. 
There  was  instruction  in  every  scene,  every  stranger, 
and  every  inn.  How  well  Bayard  availed  himself  of 
their  lessons,  is  illustrated  in  all  his  excellent  letters 
on  foreign  travel,  and  in  his  books  compiled  from  them. 
At  Newcastle  he  noticed  a  group  of  miners  begging  in 
the  streets,  and  when  he  heard  how  they  had  struck 
for  higher  wages,  because  they  could  not  longer  exist 
on  the  pittance  allowed  them,  and  how  they  and  their 
families  were  turned  out  upon  the  streets  to  starve,  his 
indignation  was  very  great,  and  in  his  book  he  utters  a 
prophecy  that  soon  that  murmur  from  the  oppressed 
5 


66  LIFE    OF    BAYARD    TAYLO1J. 

people  would  increase  to  a  roar,  and  be  heard  "  by  the 
dull  ears  of  power."  From  Newcastle  he  went  by  boat 
to  London,  reaching  that  city  in  the  early  morning  near 
the  end  of  August. 


THE    CITY    OF   LONDON. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Visit  in  London.  —  Exhibition  of  Relics. —The  Lessons  of  Travel. 
—  Historical  Association.  —  London  to  Ostend. — The  Cathedral 
at  Aix-la-Chapelle.  —  The  Great  Cathedral  at  Cologne. —  Voy 
age  up  the  Rhine.  —  Longfellow's  "  Hyperion."  —  Visit  to 
Frankfort.  —  Kind  Friends.  —  Reaches  Heidelberg.  —  Climbing 
the  Mountains. 

LONDON  is  a  world  in  itself,  as  has  often  bocn  writ 
ten,  and,  to  such  an  impressible  mind  as  that  of 
Bayard,  was  a  place  replete  with  pleasure  and  instruc 
tion.  London  instructs  by  two  methods ;  one  by 
agreeable,  and  the  other  by  disagreeable  examples. 
Bayard  was  equally  taught  by  both.  There  was  West 
minster  Abbey,  with  its  numberless  tombs  of  the  tal 
ented  and  noble  ;  and  there  was  the  Tower  of  London, 
with  its  dungeons  and  beheading  blocks.  There  were 
the  palatial  residences  of  the  West  End,  and  there  the 
hovels  and  holes  of  the  Wych  Street  district.  There 
were  the  great  mercantile  houses  of  Holborn  and  Re 
gent  Street,  and  there  were  the  gambling  dens  of  Drury 
Lane.  There  were  the  magnificent  galleries  of  art,  at 
the  Museum,  at  the  Palaces,  at  Westminster,  and  at 
Kensington  ;  and  there  were  the  dirty,  slimy  exhibitions 
of  marred  humanity  along  the  wharves  of  the  Thames. 
There  were  the  zoological  wonders  of  the  parks,  and 


68  LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

there  were  the  dog-shows,  and  cock-pits  of  the  St. 
Giles  Rookery.  There  was  the  palace  of  the  Queen, 
and  there  the  Old  Bailey.  There  was  the  office 
of  the  "Thunderer"  (Daily  Times),  and  there  were 
the  attics  from  whence  flowed  the  vilest  trash  that 
man  ever  printed.  There  were  Hyde  Park,  Regent's 
Park,  St.  James  Park,  and  the  broad  squares ;  and 
there  were  the  filthy  alleys  and  narrow  lanes  about 
London  Bridge.  There  were  the  Rothschilds,  and 
there  the  poor  Micawbers  and  deserted  Nicholas 
Nicklebys.  The  richest,  the  poorest,  the  best,  the 
worst;  the  most  cultivated,  and  the  most  ignorant; 
the  most  powerful  monarch,  and  the  most  degraded 
fishmongers.  Extremes !  Extremes  that  meet  in 
everything  there.  They  all  instruct  by  teaching  the 
beholder  what  he  ought  to  be,  and  what  he  ought  not 
to  be.  One  sees  much  in  London  that  ought  not  to 
have  been ;  and,  strange  to  relate,  many  of  the  relics 
connected  with  such  things,  are  exhibited  with  great 
pride.  If  there  is  any  one  thing  above  all  others,  for 
which  the  American  should  be  thankful,  it  is  for  the 
fact  that  the  dungeon,  the  rack,  the  wheel,  the  thumb 
screw,  the  guillotine,  the  gibbet,  the  headsman's  block, 
the  deadly  hates  of  royalty,  the  cruelty  of  kings,  and 
the  jealousy  of  queens,  have  no  place  in  the  history 
of  the  Republic  of  the  West.  Yet  there,  somehow, 
the  officials  and  guides  who  open  to  the  public  the 
records  of  the  past  and  show  visitors  their  institutions, 
give  the  most  prominent  places  to  deeds  of  horrid 


SCENES   IN   LONDON.  69 

cruelty  and  shameless  murders,  as  if  they  took  pride 
in  such  fearful  annals.  It  would  seem  as  if,  had  our 
rulers  butchered  in  cold  blood  their  sons  and  daugh 
ters  ;  had  they  cruelly  starved  their  friends  and  relatives, 
we  in  America  would  be  ashamed  of  it.  It  would  be 
regarded  as  very  natural  here,  if  an  ancestor  was  hung 
and  quartered  and  his  head  carried  about  on  a  pole, 
to  speak  of  it  as  seldom  as  possible.  It  would  appear 
consistent  if,  had  our  national  government  oppressed 
the  weak,  degraded  the  poor,  killed  inoffensive  cap 
tives,  and,  for  selfish  ambition,  laid  waste  the  cities 
and  fields  of  an  innocent  people,  we  should  attempt 
to  bury  the  remembrance  of  those  deeds  so  deep  as  to 
make  a  resurrection  impossible.  But  there,  in  Europe, 
they  appear  to  revel  in  the  hideous  doings  of  their 
ancestors,  and  will  show  you  where  human  heads  or 
hands  were  exhibited,  and  where  noble  men  and 
women  were  persecuted  to  martyrdom,  with  the  air 
of  the  circus  manager  who  announces  the  clown. 
Who  can  hear  the  guide  on  London  Bridge,  "Here 
was  posted  the  bleeding  head  of  Sir  William  Wallace, 
the  Scotch  warrior  and  patriot,  while  the  quarters  of 
his  body  were  at  Stirling,  Berwick,  Perth,  and  New 
castle,"  and  not  curse,  with  the  deepest  feeling,  the 
people  who  murdered  one  of  the  greatest  and  best  of 
men  ? 

It  is  clear  that  these  things  made  a  strong  impression 
upon  Bayard,  for  we  find  him  more  frequently  and 
more  decidedly  praising  his  own  land,  as  he  saw  more 


70  LIFE   OF  BAYARD   TAYLOR. 

and  more  of  Europe.  He  saw,  also,  many  of  the 
advantages  which  European  nations  enjoy  in  art, 
literature,  and  commerce,  and  failed  not  to  suggest 
them  to  his  readers.  But,  unlike  those  shallow  tour 
ists,  who  would  ape  European  manners,  and  think 
all  European  institutions  should  be  at  once  imported 
here,  his  patriotic  regard  for  the  institutions  and  peo 
ple  of  his  own  land,  increased  with  the  desire  to 
benefit  them.  How  reverently  he  speaks  of  George 
Washington  ;  how  touchingly  docs  he  speak  with  the 
European  peasants  who  accost  him,  of  the  home  of 
the  free  beyond  the  great  ocean. 

A  whole  week  those  young  men  searched  the  great 
city  for  valuable  information.  They  slept  and  ate  in 
the  rudest  of  taverns,  and  tramped  the  city  with  the 
workmen  and  the  beggars,  but  they  were  gathering 
the  forces  for  a  useful  life.  Bayard  was  filled  with  the 
sublimity  of  the  mighty  human  torrent  that,  like  a 
tide,  rolls  into  London  in  the  morning,  dashes  about 
the  highways  during  the  day,  and  surges  outward  at 
night.  He  felt  the  grandeur  of  St.  Paul's,  the  con 
flicting  and  exciting  associations  of  Westminster,  the 
marvellous  feat  of  tunnelling  under  the  Thames,  the 
enormous  wealth  of  churches,  monuments,  halls,  and 
galleries,  and  carried  away  with  him  to  the  Continent 
a  very  complete  idea  of  the  institutions  and  the  queer 
customs  of  the  great  metropolis. 

From  London,  the  party  proceeded  to  Dover,  and 
from  thence  to  Ostend  and  Bruges.     They  travelled  in 


ATX-LA-CHAPELLE.  71 

the  cheapest  manner,  walking  wherever  practicable,  and 
going  from  Bruges  to  Ghent  in  a  canal-boat,  thence  by 
railroad  across  the  border  to  Aix-la-Chapelle.  Here 
was  another  treat.  The  description  which  he  gave  in 
his  letters  of  his  visit  to  the  old  Cathedral,  where  rest 
the  remains  of  Charlemagne,  was  one  of  the  most 
vivid  recitals  to  be  found  in  the  annals  of  travel.  For 
some  reason,  he  so  abridged  it  in  his  book,  as  to  take 
away  the  finest  and  most  original  delineations.  Every 
reader  of  his  first  narration,  who  may  never  have 
visited  Aix-la-Chapelle,  can  in  imagination  see  the  old 
Cathedral,  with  its  shrines,  its  antique  windows,  and 
the  shadows  of  saints  on  the  floor,  and  hear  the  sweet 
undulations  of  the  organ's  solemn  peal.  While  to  the 
traveller  who  follows  him  through  those  aisles,  and 
under  those  magnificent  arches,  his  words  give  life  and 
language  to  the  pillars,  altars,  and  luminous  decora 
tions.  To  the  least  poetic  or  sentimental  of  travellers, 
it  is  a  solemn  place  ;  and  if  so  to  them,  how  deep  and 
impressive  must  it  have  been  to  a  soul  so  full  of  emo 
tion  as  that  of  Bayard  !  There  he  wrote  his  well- 
known  poem,  "  The  Tomb  of  Charlemagne." 

This  grand  old  pile  was  succeeded  next  day  by  the 
great  Gothic  Cathedral,  at  Cologne,  which  was  not 
then  finished,  is  not  now  completed,  and  will  never  see 
the  end  of  the  mason's  labors,  because  the  time  taken 
in  the  construction  is  so  long  that  the  very  stone  decays, 
and  must  be  replaced  at  the  base  by  fhe  time  the  deli 
cate  tracery  of  the  towers  is  set  on  those  skyward 


72  LIFE    OF    BAYARD    TAYLOR. 

heights.  The  structure  must  be  constantly  in  process 
of  reconstruction,  from  the  bottom,  upwards.  When 
Bayard  looked  upon  this  wonderful  building,  which 
since  1248  had  been  in  an  uncompleted  state,  two 
hundred  and  fifty  years  having  been  spent  in  active 
labor,  he  said  it  impressed  him  most  deeply,  by  way  of 
comparison.  Two  hundred  and  forty  years  before 
America  was  discovered,  the  foundations  of  that 
church  were  laid,  and  here  they  are  working  on  it 
still !  By  such  lessons  is  an  American  made  to  know 
his  place  in  the  history  of  the  world.  Had  the  his 
tory  of  these  old  lands  been  less  barbarous  and  cruel, 
*ve  should  feel  humble  indeed.  But  in  view  of  what 
the  old  folks  have  done,  we  may  be  thankful  that  we 
are  young,  and  have  our  record  yet  to  write.  But  the 
fact  that  we  are  not  so  old,  so  great,  so  artistic,  or  so 
cultured  as  we  have  flattered  ourselves,  is  wholesome 
information,  and  as  taught  by  these  old  Cathedrals  of 
Europe,  is  very  necessary  to  the  success  of  our  young 
men.  How  deeply  these  things  moved  Bayard,  is  seen 
by  the  very  frequent  mention  we  find  in  his  writings, 
of  aisle,  or  arch,  or  dome,  or  spire. 

But  one  of  the  most  attractive  spots  to  that  young 
voyager,  in  all  his  wanderings  in  Europe,  he  saw  while 
going  up  the  Rhine,  from  Cologne  to  Mayence.  He 
viewed  with  satisfaction  the  vineyards  and  villages 
along  the  banks ;  he  was  charmed  with  the  crags  and 
crumbling  towers  of  the  innumerable  old  castles  which 
ornament  the  tops  of  all  the  most  prominent  hills  and 


LONGFELLOW'S  HYPERION.  73 

mountains.  The  walled  cities,  the  legendary  caves 
and  grottos,  the  most  exquisite  fables  that  account  for 
the  miraculous  construction  of  cliff,  and  convent,  and 
crusaders'  halls,  all  came  upon  him  as  he  glided  by 
them  on  the  muddy  river,  as  dreams  come  to  the 
drinker  of  hashish.  But  beyond  all  these  in  interest 
to  our  young  wanderer,  was  the  little  walled  town  of 
Boppart,  whose  feudal  history  is  nearly  lost,  but  whose 
romantic  connection  with  Longfellow's  "  Hyperion,"  has 
given  it  a  fresh  lease  of  life.  Bayard  there  recalled 
his  life  at  home,  and  his  days  of  anxious  waiting; 
for,  had  not  this  same  "Hyperion,"  with  entrancing 
interest,  spurred  on  his  hope  to  one  day  travel  along 
the  Rhine  ?  Had  not  this  same  "  Hyperion  "  given  the 
impulse  that  started  his  cousin  on  such  a  great  journey 
to  the  university  at  Heidelberg  ?  And  were  not  those 
houses  in  the  town  of  Boppart,  and  was  not  that 
cottage  the  very  Inn  of  the  "  Star,"  and  might  not  that 
woman,  near  the  shore,  be  "Paul  Flemming's"  boat- 
woman  ?  Oh  !  grand  and  revered  Longfellow  !  when 
we  note  how  many  a  life,  like  these,  has  turned  upon 
the  reading  of  your  inspired  words,  one  feels  as  if  to 
have  seen  your  face  and  heard  your  voice,  and  to  have 
been  beneath  the  same  roof,  was  an  honor  greater  than 
kings  could  bestow ! 

But  Boppart,  Lurlei  Berg,  Oberwisel,  Bingen, 
and  Geisenheim  were  soon  left  behind,  and  Mayence, 
with  its  Cathedral  six  centuries  old,  its  walls  and  for 
tresses,  welcomed  them  to  its  monotonous  shades. 


74  LIFE  OF  BArAtio  TAYLOR. 

A  beautiful  trait  of  Bayard's  character  comes  grace 
fully  into  view  as  we  read  his  grateful  acknowledg 
ments  of  the  kindnesses  he  received.  On  his  first 
walk  in  his  apprentice  days,  in  Pennsylvania,  having 
determined  to  see  some  mountains,  although  he  had  to 
walk  two  hundred  miles  to  view  them,  he  was  kindly 
served  at  a  well,  on  the  way,  by  a  farmer's  girl,  who 
cheerfully  drew  the  bucket  from  the  well  and  ran  for  a 
glass,  that  he,  a  dusty,  thirsty  stranger,  might  drink 
without  further  fatigue ;  and  in  his  later  years  he 
records  the  fact  in  his  book,  with  the  sweetest  expres 
sions  of  thankfulness.  So  when  he  arrived  at  Frank 
fort,  and  was  kindly  received  and  entertained  by  Mr. 
Richard  S.  Willis,  the  American  consul,  brother  of 
Bayard's  old  friend,  Nathaniel  P.  Willis,  he  sits  down  at 
once,  and  in  his  letters  to  his  friends,  and  in  his  public 
correspondence,  he  speaks  of  the  generosity  and 
thoughtfulness  of  his  old  friend,  and  the  hospitable  and 
cultured  characteristics  of  his  new  friend.  They  were 
noble  friends,  who  made  for  him  a  home  at  their  fireside 
in  Frankfort,  and  deserve  the  thanks  of  every  admirer 
of  Bayard  Taylor.  His  thanks  they  had  throughout  a 
long  life,  and  not  only  thanks,  but  grateful  deeds. 

It  was  Bayard's  purpose  to  go  to  Heidelberg,  with 
his  cousin,  and  give  himself  to  close  study,  at  tho 
University,  or  with  private  tutors ;  but  just  how  he 
was  going  to  obtain  the  means  to  pay  his  expenses  was 
something  of  an  enigma.  It  may  be  that  his  good 
fortune  in  the  outset  made  him  too  confident  and 


At    HElDftLDEftG.  75 


careless  in  regard  to  other  undertakings.  At  all 
events,  his  stay  in  Heidelberg  was  much  shorter  than 
he  had  at  first  intended  that  it  should  be,  and  his  studies 
were  much  more  broken  and  superficial  than  his  letters 
show  he  thought  they  would  be.  He  was  not  consti 
tuted  for  close,  hard,  metaphysical  study,  and  made 
but  little  attempts  in  that  direction,  after  he  arrived  at 
Heidelberg.  He  loved  the  grand  old  Castle  better 
than  the  whittled  benches  of  the  University.  He  en 
joyed  the  Kaisersthul  and  the  lesser  mountains,  far 
more  than  the  monotonous  recital  of  German  theories. 
The  river  Neckar  called  him  in  its  murmurs,  the  clouds 
beckoned  to  him  as  they  flew  over  the  Heligen  Berg, 
the  wind  called  for  him  as  it  sighed  around  the  vine 
yards  of  Ziegelhausen,  and  all  thoughts  of  private, 
quiet  study  fled  at  the  summons.  So  he  climbed  the 
mountains.  It  was  always  a  passion  with  him  to  gain 
an  altitude  as  high  as  possible,  and  look  out  upon  the 
world.  He  tells  how,  when  a  boy,  he  ventured  out  of 
a  chamber  window  in  the  old  farm-house  at  Kennett, 
and  seeing  a  row  of  slats  which  the  carpenters  had 
used  for  steps  in  ascending  the  roof,  he  sallie.d  forth, 
and  there  astride  of  the  roof,  gained  his  first  view  of  a 
landscape.  He  said  afterward,  that  the  roof  appeared 
to  be  so  high  and  the  view  so  extensive,  that  he  im 
agined  he  could  see  Niagara  Falls.  Whether  this 
inclination  to  climb  up  came  to  him  through  the  stories 
of  his  old  Swiss  nurse,  whose  bed-time  stories  were  of 
the  mighty  Alps  and  their  towering  cones,  or  whether 


76  LIFE   OF  BAYARD   TAYLOR. 

it  was  an  hereditary  trait  in  his  nature,  none  may  be 
able  to  decide.  He  was  certainly  prone  to  go  upwards, 
and  had  a  tendency  for  horizontal  motion  equally  as 
strong.  He  would  not  remain  stationary;  hence,  at 
Heidelberg,  he  inspected  every  nook  and  crevice  of  the 
picturesque  old  Castle,  crouched  through  its  conduits, 
rapped  its  ponderous  tun,  scaled  its  roofless  and  crum 
bling  walls,  rushed  into  the  recesses  of  the  adjacent 
thickets,  and  tested  the  celebrated  beer  at  the  students' 
resorts.  He  joined  excursion  parties  which  visited 
the  neighboring  mountains,  and  after  he  had  been 
there  a  month,  he  knew  the  fields,  rocks,  trees,  val 
leys,  dells,  and  peaks,  as  well  as  a  native,  and  appears 
to  have  loved  them  with  a  patriotic  regard  almost  equa] 
to  the  eldest  burgher. 


FROM   HEIDELBERG   TO    FRANKFORT.  77 


CHAPTER   X. 

Study  in  Frankfort.  —  Lack  of  Money.  —  Different  Effect  of  Want 
on  Travellers. — Bayard's  Privations. — Again  sets  out  on  Foot. — 
Visit  to  the  Hartz  Mountains.  —  The  Brocken.  —  Scones  in 
"Faust."  —  Locality  in  Literature.  —  The  Battle-field  at  Leip- 
sic.  —  Auerbach's  Cellar. 

FOR  the  purposes  of  this  work,  an  outline  of  Bayard's 
travels  is  all  that  can  be  attempted  ;  except  where  some 
remarkable  incident  occurred  that  had  an  unusual  in 
fluence  on  his  subsequent  life.  Leaving  Heidelberg  in 
the  latter  part  of  October  (1844),  Bayard  walked 
through  the  Odenwald  to  Frankfort,  where  he  could 
pursue  his  study  of  the  German  language,  and  observe 
the  customs  and  characteristics  of  the  people  to  better 
advantage  and  at  a  less  expense.  In  attempting  to  see 
Europe  on  such  a  limited  allowance  of  money,  he 
necessarily  met  with  many  inconveniences  and  priva 
tions.  His  sufferings  were  at  times  most  intense.  He 
knew  what  it  was  to  fast  for  whole  days ;  he  felt  the 
pains  of  blistered  bare  feet.  He  was  exposed  to  the 
severest  storms  of  summer  and  winter  ;  he  was  familiar 
with  the  homes  of  beggary  and  the  hard,  swarming 
beds  of  third-class  tav^-ns.  He  must  have  suffered 
beyond  his  own  estima't  for,  as  he  so  well  says,  the 
pains  of  travel  are  soor  ^rgotten  and  the  pleasures 


78  LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

vividly  remembered.  There  was  a  youthful  abandon 
in  his  almost  reckless  adventures  which  startles  the 
reader  of  his  tours.  But  yet  the  pains  he  felt  so 
keenly,  the  dangers  he  encountered  so  frequently,  did 
not  seem  to  abate  his  enthusiasm  for  the  great  works 
and  beautiful  scenes  which  Europe  exhibits.  To  find 
ourselves  in  a  strange  city,  where  no  one  speaks  our 
native  language ;  where  it  is  not  possible  that  any 
person  can  know  us  or  any  of  our  friends ;  without 
money,  or  food,  or  work,  is  one  of  the  most  dis 
heartening  situations  that  can  bo  imagined.  Yet  such 
an  experience  came  often  to  Bayard.  It  would  seem 
as  if,  on  some  occasions,  he  ran  into  such  difficulties 
needlessly  and  for  very  wantonness.  Yet,  as  was 
sometimes  the  experience  of  the  writer,  and  from  one 
of  which  dangerous  situations  Mr.  Taylor  generously 
rescued  him,  there  somehow  opens  a  way  out  from 
such  ventures,  which  is  found  on  the  very  verge  of 
starvation  and  despair.  But  the  trait  of  character, 
which  in  Bayard  commanded  such  respect,  was  some 
thing  so  unusual,  that  his  daring  example  cannot  be 
safely  followed  by  the  multitude.  It  is  far  better  to 
have  a  supply  of  money  for  the  necessary  expenses  of 
travel  in  Europe  or  Asia,  than  to  run  risks  for  the  sake 
of  the  romance  which  Bayard  found  in  such  straits.  To 
many  tourists,  even  the  parks  of  Homburg,  the  castle 
of  Drachenfels,  or  the  palace  of  the  Vatican,  would 
become  insignificant  baubles  before  the  stronger  de 
mands  of  the  body  for  food  and  raiment.  But  seldom 


LIFE   IN   FRANKFORT.  79 

did  any  fatigue  or  annoyance  or  loss,  abate  his  wonder 
ful  zeal  in  his  search  for  the  poetical,  the  strange,  the 
historical,  and  the  beautiful.  Some  of  his  most  ex 
quisite  descriptions  of  art  or  nature,  were  written  from 
notes  made  when  his  stomach  was  empty  and  his  limbs 
chilled  with  wet  and  cold.  Such  young  men  are  few ; 
and  for  one  with  less  perseverance,  endurance,  or 
genius  to  attempt  such  things  on  such  a  scale,  would 
be  to  meet  with  disheartening  failure. 

Of  his  life  in  Frankfort,  during  the  winter  of  1845, 
he  often  speaks  with  great  satisfaction.  He  made 
excellent  progress  in  the  language,  and  in  that  under 
standing  of  the  habits  of  the  people  which  Mr.  Grceley 
had  so  pointedly  urged  upon  him  as  an  ambitious 
aspirant  for  the  favors  of  the  "  Tribune."  He  comes 
out  of  that  study  a  matured  thinker.  His  descriptions 
assume  a  more  thoughtful  tone.  His  sympathies  are 
more  often  awakened  for  the  people,  and  he  sees  as  a 
man  sees,  and  less  juvenile  are  all  his  undertakings  and 
communications.  He  there  acquired  a  love  of  German 
poetry,  and  became  acquainted  with  many  of  the  noted 
men  of  Frankfort.  He  visited  the  aged  Mendelssohn, 
and  tells  with  charming  simplicity  how  he  was  received 
by  the  composer  of  "St.  Paul  "and  "Elijah."  Thus 
introduced  to  German  literature,  art,  and  music,  ho 
entered  again  upon  his  travels  at  the  opening  of  spring, 
with  new  and  increasing  appreciativeness. 

Again,  on  foot,  he  went  into  the  untried  way  oi 
Europe.  His  first  attraction  was  for  the  Hartz  Moun- 


80  LIFE   OF   BAYARD   TAYLOR. 

tains,  so  intimately  connected  with  Goethe's  "Faust," 
with  which  Bayard  was  already  in  love,  and  which 
he  afterwards  translated  in  a  masterly  manner. 
So  he  went  through  Friedberg  and  Giessen,  into 
Hesse-Cassel,  making  the  acquaintance  of  peasants 
and  merchants  on  his  way,  and  moralizing  upon 
the  curious  circumstance  that  the  descendants  of 
the  Hessians,  who  fought  so  doggedly  at  Brandy- 
wine,  should  receive  so  hospitably  the  descendant 
of  those  who  filled  the  "plains  of  Trenton  with  the 
short  Hessian  graves."  Thence  by  Miinden,  Gottingen 
and  Osterode,  enduring  sickening  fatigues  and  dangerous 
exposure,  he  reached  the  Brocken  mountain,  where, 
through  thickets,  rocks,  chasms,  snow  and  cold,  he  at 
last  rested  in  a  cottage  at  its  summit,  amid  the  associa 
tions  awakened  by  the  weird  tales  of  witches  and  the 
superstitious  explanations  of  that  singular  illusion, — 
the  "  Spectre  of  the  Brocken."  If  he  had  any  "  wish  " 
on  that  "  Walpurgis  night,"  which  he  passed  on  the  high 
est  mountain  of  the  Hartz  range,  it  was  probably  to  be 
relieved  of  the  tortures  which  his  weak  frame  endured, 
and  from  which  the  physician  had  failed  to  relieve  him 
It  would  not  be  surprising  if  he  recited  from  "  Faust ' 
the  words  of  scene  IV.  :  — 

*«  Through  some  fumiliar  tone,  retrieving 
My  thoughts  from  torment,  led  me  on, 
And  sweet,  clear  echoes  came,  deceiving 
A  faith  bequeathed  from  childhood's  dawn, 
Yet  now  I  curse  whate'er  entices 
And  snares  the  soul  with  visions  vain ; 


THE   BKOCKEN    OF   FAUST.  81 

With  dazzling  cheats  and  dear  devices 
Confines  it  in  this  cave  of  pain ! 
Cursed  be,  at  once,  the  high  ambition 
Wherewith  the  mind  itself  deludes! 
Cursed  be  the  glare  of  apparition, 
That  on  the  finer  sense  intrudes." 

We  cannot  forbear  to  add  another  quotation  from 
the  same  Act,  so  illustrative  is  it  of  Bayard's  note- 
taking  life  :  — 

"  No  need  to  tell  me  twice  to  do  it ! 
I  think,  how  useful  'tis  to  write  ; 
For  what  one  has  in  black  and  white, 
One  carries  home  and  then  goes  through  it." 

His  visit  to  the  Brocken  was  one  of  the  most  fas 
cinating  trips  of  his  whole  pedestrian  tour,  notwith 
standing  his  narrow  escape  from  death  in  the  snow, 
and  from  destruction  by  falling  into  the  partially  con 
cealed  caves  that  beset  his  way  to  the  summit.  He 
mentioned  long  afterward  the  view  he  had  from  the 
summit-house,  through  the  rifts  in  the  clouds,  of  the 
plains  and  cities  of  Germany.  Thirty  cities  and  sev 
eral  hundred  villages  lay  within  sight,  and  all  of  them 
more  or  less  closely  interwoven  with  the  literature  of 
Germany.  The  plains  of  Brunswick  and  Magdeburg 
stretch  away  for  seventy  miles,  with. all  the  various 
shadings  of  green  intermingled  with  the  sparkling  sil 
ver  of  stream  and  lake.  It  is  a  scene  so  grand  that  no 
pen  could  portray  its  sublimity  and  no  tongue  accu- 
rate.'y  couvey  an  idea  of  its  varied  beauty.  With  that 
6 


S'2  LIFE    OF    BAYAllD    TAYLOR. 

romantic  persistency  which  no  amount  of  fatigue  over 
came,  Bayard  descended  the  mountain  by  that  rugged 
and  nerve-shaking  path  up  which  Faust  was  said  to 
have  ascended  with  Mephistopheles  (  scene  XXI.  of 
Taylor's  translation  )  who  says  :  — 

"  How  sadly  rises,  incomplete  and  ruddy, 
The  moon's  lone  disk,  with  its  belated  glow, 
And  lights  so  dimly,  that,  as  one  advances,      . 
At  every  step  one  strikes  a  rock  or  tree! 
Let  us,  then,  use  a  Jack-o'-Lanteru's  glances  : 
I  see  one  yonder,  burning  merrily. 
Ho,  there!  my  friend!  I'll  levy  thine  attendance  : 
Why  waste  so  vainly  thy  resplendence  ? 
Be  kind  enough  to  light  us  up  the  steep." 

After  which  Faust,  in  a  musing  mood,  looks  down 
from  the  Brocken  heights  and  replies  : — 

"  How  strangely  glimmers  through  the  hollows 
A  dreary  light,  like  that  of  dawn ! 
Its  exhalation  tracks  and  follows 
The  deepest  gorges,  faint  and  wan. 
Hero  steam,  there  rolling  vapor  sweepeth  ; 
Here  burns  the  glow  through  film  and  haze : 
Now  like  a  tender  thread  it  creepeth, 
Now  like  a  fountain  leaps  and  plays. 
Hero  winds  away,  and  in  a  hundred 
Divided  veins  the  valley  braids  : 
There  in  a  corner  pressed  and  sundered, 
Itself  detaches,  spreads  and  fades. 
Here  gush  the  sparkles  incandescent 
Like  scattered  showers  of  golden  sand  ;  — 
But,  see!  in  all  their  height  at  present, 
The  rocky  ramparts  blazing  btaud,. " 


LEIPS1C    AND    DRESDEN.  83 

As  Bayard  leaped  and  stumbled  down  the  rocky  de 
clivity  into  the  narrow  gorge  that  there  divides  the 
mountains  to  give  an  outlet  for  the  river  Bode,  the  very 
difficulties  bound  him  closer  to  Goethe's  writings.  He 
felt  again  how  important  a  thing  it  is  in  literature  to 
connect  it  by  patriotic  links  with  some  actual  land 
scape,  and  how  much  more  vivid  and  permanent  are 
the  lessons  an  author  would  teach  when  the  reader 
visits  the  mountains,  plains,  cities,  buildings,  and  peo 
ple  mentioned  in  books  of  classic  worth.  Thus  learn 
ing  and  growing  the  young  traveller  plodded  on  from 
inn  to  inn  and  village  to  village. 

Leipsic,  which  he  reached  a  day  or  two  after  leaving 
the  Brocken,  was  a  place  of  great  interest  to  Bayard, 
as  it  is  in  fact  to  all  travellers.  But  the  interest  in  any 
city  or  country  visited  by  a  tourist  depends  so  much 
upon  his  previous  reading,  and  the  taste  and  opportu 
nities  for  reading  are  so  diverse,  that  it  seldom  happens 
that  any  two  persons  in  the  same  party  enjoy  the  same 
scene  with  equal  satisfaction.  Bayard  had  read  of 
Leipsic  and  Dresden  in  his  boyhood  when  other  boys 
were  catching  rabbits  or  playing  ball,  and  as  w.'ien  he 
sees  the  great  citadel  at  Magdeburg  which  once  held 
Baron  Trenck  a  prisoner,  so  when  at  Leipsic  he  looks 
over  the  field  where  Blucher  and  Schwartzenberg  met 
Napoleon,  he  is  startled  with  the  vividness  of  the  pic 
tures  in  his  imagination.  Hundreds  of  thousands  rush 
ing  to  combat  and  scattering  in  retreat  while  smoke  rolls 


84  LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

upward  from  hundreds  of  cannon  and  the  streams  arc 
choked  with  piles  of  bloody  dead  ! 

There  too  was  Auerbach's  Cellar,  in  which  Goethe's 
Faust  and  Mcphistopheles  are  so  humorously  placed. 
There  was  the  same  drinking-saloon,  there  the  descend 
ant  of  the  old  bar-keeper,  and  there  the  same  character 
istic  crowd  of  loafers,  as  when  Faust  and  Mephistoph- 
eles  drank  there,  and  when  amid  songs  and  jokes,  the 
latter  drew  all  kinds  of  wine  from  the  gimlet  holes  in 
the  leaf  of  the  old  wooden  table.  Bayard's  estimate  of 
the  people  appears  to  have  confirmed  that  of  Mephis- 
topheles  who  says  (  scene  V.  )  :  — 

"  Before  all  else  I  bring  thee  hither 
Where  boon  companions  meet  together, 
To  let  thee  see  how  srao'oth  life  runs  away. 
Here,  for  the  folk,  each  day 's  a  holiday  : 
With  little  wit,  and  ease  to  suit  them, 
They  whirl  in  narrow,  circling  trails, 
Like  kittens  playing  with  their  tails : 
And  if  no  headache  persecute  them, 
So  long  the  host  may  credit  give, 
They  merrily  and  careless  live." 

The  peasantry  still  crowd  the  cellar,  still  sing  the 
old  lays,  and  each  day  tell  over  again  the  old  legend  of 
Mephistopheles'  miraculous  exit. 

"  I  saw  him,  with  these  eyes,  upon  a  wine  cask  riding 
Out  of  the  cellar  door,  just  now. " 


AT    DRESDEN.  85 


CHAPTER  XI. 

Pictures  at  Dresden.  —  Raphael's  Madonna.  —  Bayard's  Art  Educa 
tion. —  His  Exalted  Ideas  of  Art.  —  His  Enthusiasm.  —  Visits 
Bohemia.  —  Stay  in  Prague. — The  Curiosities  of  Vienna.— 
Tomb  of  Beethoven.  —  Respect  for  Religion.  —  Listens  to 
Strauss.  —  View  of  Lintz.  —  Munich  and  its  Decorations.  —  The 
Home  of  Schiller.  —  Poetic  Landscapes,  and  Charming  People. 
—  Statue  by  Thorwaldsen.  —  Walk  to  Heidelberg. 

AT  Dresden,  Bayard  visited  the  picture-gallery,  for 
the  purpose  of  seeing  Raphael's  Madonna  and  Child, 
known  as  the  Madonna  di  San  Sisto.  His  description 
of  that  painting,  so  unfortunately  abridged  in  his  book, 
was  one  of  the  finest  examples  of  art  criticism  to  be 
found  in  print.  His  appreciation  of  painting  and  sculpt- 
ture  was  remarkable,  indeed,  for  one  who  never  made 
them  a  professional  study,  and  whose  rude  sketches 
in  pencil  in  his  note  books,  contained  nearly  all  of  his 
undertakings  as  an  amateur.  His  soul  seemed  cast  in 
the  proper  mould  for  that  kind  of  work,  but  his  hand 
was  never  trained  to  materialize  the  pictures  that  filled 
the  galleries  of  his  imagination.  He  had  all  thoso 
finer  sensibilities  and  acute  instincts  which  fitted  him 
for  art  in  poetry  or  stone, 'and  he  saw  in  paintings  and 
statuary,  beauties  or  defects  which  thousands  of  coldr •» 
but  more  studious  critics  failed  to  notice 


86  LIFE    OF    BAYARD    TAYLOR. 

He  spoke  of  that  Madonna  at  Dresden,  as  a  painting 
that  moved  his  whole  nature  in  admiration.  He  enjoyed 
it.  He  feasted  on  it.  He  read  it  as  one  follows  an 
exciting  romance.  He  felt  the  power  of  the  picture 
as  Raphael  felt  it,  and  seemed  to  appreciate  it  even 
more  keenly  than  the  artist.  How  much  satisfaction 
and  delight  he  found  in  the  enormous  collections  of 
art  in  the  Old  World,  cannot  be  told  or  understood  by 
any  one  whose  natural  genius  leads  them  not  in  such 
a  direction.  His  mental  appetite  for  such  things  grew 
so  keen,  as  he  went  on  from  city  to  city  and  gallery  to 
gallery,  that  he  much  preferred  to  leave  his  meals  un- 
tasted,  than  pass  a  great  painting  without  study.  Like 
the  true  artist,  his  mind  took  in  the  grand  ideals,  and 
his  respect  and  admiration  for  the  divine  handiwork 
in  producing  man  and  beast,  caused  him  often  to  wince 
under  the  suggestive  and  degrading  obtrusiveness  of 
fig-leaves  and  rude  drapery  in  sculpture.  The  human 
form  in  all  its  heavenly  beauty  and  godlike  majesty, 
as  reproduced  in  marble  by  the  great  artists,  was  too 
sacred  and  pure  to  him,  to  be  marred  by  the  sugges 
tions  of  sin.  No  man  or  woman  will  ever  become  an 
artist,  in  its  highest,  noblest  sense,  until  their  love  for 
beauty,  simplicity,  and  purity,  lifts  them  above  the 
impressions  that  are  born  of  ignorance,  vulgarity,  and 
sin.  Bayard,  in  after  years,  thus  beautifully  wrote  of 
sculpture  :  — 

"In  clay  the  statue  stood  complete, 
As  beautiful  a  form,  and  fair, 


POETUY    OF    ART.  87 

As  ever  walked  a  Roman  street 
Or  breathed  the  blue  Athenian  air : 
The  perfect  limbs,  divinely  bare, 
Their  old,  heroic  freedom  kept, 
And  in  the  features,  fine  and  rare, 
A  calm,  immortal  sweetness  slept. 

O'er  common  men  it  towered,  a  god, 
And  smote  their  meaner  life  with  shame, 
For  while  its  feet  the  highway  trod, 
Its  lifted  brow  was  crowned  with  flame 
And  purified  from  touch  of  blame: 
Yet  wholly  human  was  the  face, 
And  over  them  who  sa\v  it  came 
The  knowledge  of  their  own  disgrace. 

It  stood,  regardless  of  the  crowd, 

And  simply  showed  what  men  might  bo: 

Its  solemn  beauty  disavowed 

The  curse  of  lost  humanity. 

Erect  and  proud,  and  pure  and  free, 

It  overlooked  each  loathsome  law 

Whereunto  others  bend  the  knee, 

And  only  what  was  noble  saw." 

The  blameless  spirit  of  a  lofty  aim 

Sees  not  a  lino  that  asks  to  be  concealed 

By  dextrous  evasion  ;  but,  revealed 

As  truth  demands,  doth  Nature  smite  with  shame 

Them,  who  with  artifice  of  ivy-leaf 

Unsex  the  splendid  loins,  or  shrink  the  frame 

From  life's  pure  honesty,  as  shrinks  a  thief, 

While  stands  a  hero  ignorant  of  blame ! 

u  Each  part  expressed  its  nicely  measured  share, 
In  the  mysterious  being  of  the  whole  : 
Not  from  the  eye  or  lip  looked  forth  the  soul, 
But  made  her  habitation  everywhere 
Within  the  bounds  of  flesh  ;  and  Art  might  steal, 
As  once,  of  old,  her  purest  triumphs  there." 


88  LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

This  appreciation  of  the  inner  feelings  of  the  sculptor 
and  painter,  is  the  more  astonishing,  because  of  the 
unusual  disadvantages  under  which  he  first  studied  the 
works  of  the  ancient  masters.  Aching  limbs,  bruised 
feet,  and  an  empty  stomach  are  not  usually  aids  to  the 
critic  in  forming  a  judgment  of  the  symmetry  or  grace 
of  any  work  of  art.  But  his  enthusiastic  recitals  of 
his  visits  to  the  celebrated  paintings,  show  no  less 
rapture  when  he  saw  them  in  fatigue  and  hunger,  than 
when  he  looked  upon  them  in  rest  and  bodily  satiety. 
Thus,  most  naturally,  he  became  the  companion  and 
intimate  friend  of  a  large  number  of  the  European 
artists,  and  was  sought  and  highly  esteemed  by  all 
the  American  painters  and  sculptors  whom  he  met  in 
Europe.  He  understood  them.  He  sympathized  with 
their  enthusiasm  and  sacrifices ;  while  a  great,  cold 
world  went  by  them  without  a  comforting  word  or  a 
smile  of  recognition. 

Dresden  was  like  a  door  to  his  higher  art  life,  and 
its  collection  of  paintings  is  worthy  of  such  a  place. 
There  were,  besides  the  Sistine  Madonna,  the  "Ascen 
sion,"  by  Raphael  Mengs,  the  "Notte,"  by  Correggio, 
and  galleries  of  master-pieces  by  Titian,  Da  Vinci, 
Veronese,  Del  Sarto,  Rubens,  Vandyck,  Lorraine 
and  Teniers ;  with  sculpture  in  marble,  ivory,  bronze 
and  jewels,  from  Michael  Angelo  and  his  cotempora- 
ries.  Being  the  widest  and  most  diversified  collection 
in  Germany,  it  was  eagerly  sought  by  Bayard,  and 
more  reluctantly  left'  behind.  More  grand  than  the 


VISIT   TO    PRAGUE.  89 

battle  of  Napoleon  before  its  gates,  and  more  lasting 
in  their  effects,  were  the  historic  works  of  art  which 
Dresden  is  so  proud  to  possess. 

From  Dresden,  Bayard  walked  to  Prague,  leaving 
behind  him,  as  he  then  thought  forever,  the  cheerful, 
hospitable,  kind-hearted  people,  with  whose  kin  he 
afterwards  became  so  intimately  and  advantageously 
connected.  In  Prague,  he  ascended  the  heights  where 
the  Bohemian  kings  and  Amazon  queens  used  to  re 
side,  heard  the  solemn  mass  in  one  of  Europe's  most 
solemn  Cathedrals,  visited  the  bridge  under  which  the 
Saint  Johannes  floated  with  the  miraculous  stars  about 
his  corpse,  lost  himself  in  the  bedlam  of  Jewish  cloth 
ing-shops,  and  then,  staff  in  hand,  hastened  on  over 
the  monotonous  plains,  and  through  the  highways 
almost  fenced  with  wretchedly  painted  shrines,  to  the 
Paris  of  the  west,  Vienna. 

There  again  were  rare  treasures  of  art  on  which  he 
might  study,  and  in  study,  increase  in  that  dignity  and 
expansion  of  soul  which  only  such  .contemplation  can 
give.  He  was  delighted  to  hear  the  composer  Strauss, 
and  his  orchestra,  and  amusingly  describes  the  queer 
antics  of  that  nervous  little  musician.  He  gazed  with 
awe  at  the  stained  banners  of  the  Crusaders,  and,  with 
uncovered  head,  listened  to  the  grand  chants  in  St. 
Stephen's  Cathedral ;  but  his  pathetic  mention  of  his 
visit  to  the  tomb  of  Beethoven  is  the  most  character 
istic. 

There  was  a  most  lovable  trait  in  Bayard's  character, 


90  LIFE    OF   BAYARD   TAYLOR. 

which  became  even  more  prominent  in  his  after  years 
of  travel,  which  deserves  mention  in  this  connection. 
He  never  railed  upon  the  dead,  nor  ridiculed  the  re 
ligious  belief  or  acts  of  devotion  of  any  people,  how 
ever  ignorant  or  heathenish.  He  often  mentioned, 
with  emotion,  the  efforts  of  the  darkened  human  mind 
to  find  its  Creator  and  Ruler.  He  treated  with  sin- 
cerest  respect  every  act  of  devotion  performed  in  his 
presence,  whether  by  Protestant,  Catholic,  or  Mahom- 
edan.  There  was  that  in  his  nature,  and  his  early 
Quaker  education,  that  not  only  kept  him  in  the  paths 
of  morality  and  on  the  side  of  virtue,  but  through 
all  his  writings  there  runs  a  thread  of  faith  in  God, 
which  cannot  be  better  expressed  than  by  quoting  one 
of  his  own  sweet  hymns. 

"  In  the  peace  of  hearts  at  rest, 
In  the  child  at  mother's  breast, 
In  the  lives  that  now  surround  us, 
In  the  deaths  that  sorely  wound  us, 
Though  we  may  not  understand, 
Father,  we  behold  Thy  hand  !  " 

After  leaving  Vienna,  he  went,  by  the  way  of  Enns 
to  Lintz,  which  is  situated  in  one  of  the  most  pictur 
esque  landscapes  of  the  Danube.  The  city  is  sur 
rounded  by  towers  unconnected  by  walls  and  has  a 
very  romantic  history.  Bayard  in  his  letters  speaks 
of  the  rural  scenes  about  Lintz  in  terms  of  the  highest 
admiration.  It  was  in  these  Austrian  landscapes  that 


ARRIVAL    AT   MUNICH.  91 

he  composed  that  poem  entitled  "The  Wayside  Dream," 
and  in  which  we  find  the  following  descriptive  lines  : 

"The  deep  and  lordly  Danube 
Goes  winding  far  below  ; 
I  see  the  wliite-walled  hamlets 
Amid  his  vineyards  glow, 
And  southward,  through  the  ether,  shiiie 
The  Styrian  hills  of  snow. 

"  O'er  many  a  league  of  landscape 
Sleeps  the  warm  haze  of  noon  ; 
The  wooing  winds  come  freighted 
With  messages  of  June, 
And  dowu  among  the  corn  and  flowers 
I  hear  the  water's  tune. 


"  The  meadow-lark  is  singing, 
As  if  it  still  were  morn ; 
Within  the  dark  pine-forest 
The  hunter  winds  his  horn, 
And  the  cuckoo's  shy,  complaining  note 
Mocks  the  maidens  in  the  corn." 


From  Lintz,  over  hills  and  by  meadows,  among  the 
merry  farmers  and  their  light-hearted  children,  they 
walked  on,  through  Salzburg  and  Hohenlinden,  IL 
Munich,  where  another  magnificent  display  of  paint 
ings,  sculpture,  palaces,  parks,  and  historic  local 
ities,  rewarded  him  for  his  long  walk  and  limited 
supply  of  food.  He  had  so  little  money  that  he 
was  compelled  to  live  on  twenty  cents  a  day.  There 
he  found  the  great  works  of  Thorwaldsen,  Cornelius, 


92  LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAILOR. 

and  Schwan thaler,  and  copies  in  marble  of  almost 
every  celebrated  piece  of  antique  sculpture.  There 
were  the  gorgeous  palaces  of  kings  and  dukes,  the 
beautifully  wrought  halls  and  churches,  with  the 
spacious  avenues  and  charming  parks.  No  city  in  the 
world  contains  such  rich  decorations,  such  unique  and 
profuse  ornamentation,  or  such  harmony  of  design  and 
arrangement,  as  is  shown  in  the  palace  halls  and  public 
edifices  of  Munich.  How  a  visit  to  them  sweetens 
everything  else  in  after  life,  and  how  the  memory  of 
them  ever  lightens  the  burden  of  care  !  What  Ameri 
can  could  walk  those  pavements  and  floors  and  not 
yearn  for  the  power  to  give  to  his  own  country  some 
thing  to  match  those  marvellous  structures  !  Bayard 
must  have  felt  that  impulse  in  common  with  others ; 
but,  unlike  many  others,  he  kept  his  promise,  which 
was  to  awaken  a  love  in  every  American  heart  for  art 
in  its  grand  and  stable  forms ;  and  many  are  the 
promptings  and  rebukes  which  we,  as  a  people,  have 
received  from  his  pen  as  writer,  and  from  his  lips  as  a 
lecturer. 

From  Munich,  the  route  chosen  by  Bayard  lay 
through  Augsburg,  Ulm,  and  Wurtcmberg,  and  when 
he  entered  the  latter  country,  at  Esslingen,  he  said 
the  very  atmosphere  was  permeated  with  poetry.  He 
was  delighted  with  the  green  vales,  lofty  hills,  lovely 
vineyards,  waving  forests,  and  feudal  ruins.  He  was 
grateful  to  the  kind  people,  and  was  made  happy  by 
their  universal  cheerfulness  and  good-nature.  It  was 


WURTEMBERG   AND    SCHILLER.  93 

the  home  of  Schiller !  There  the  first  nine  years  of 
the  poet's  life  were  spent,  and  scarce  a  nook  is  there 
about  the  interesting  old  cities  which  that  boy  did  not 
explore.  It  was  toward  Wurtemberg,  as  his  child 
hood's  home,  Schiller  exhibited  the  greatest  regard  ; 
alas,  it  was  there,  too,  in  Stuttgart,  that  the  tyrannical 
Duke  imprisoned  him  for  publishing  his  first  play. 
There,  too,  the  patriotic  Uhland  sat  in  the  halls  of  leg 
islation,  and  wrote  those  poems  which  fired  the  hearts 
of  his  countrymen  to  a  brave  defence  of  fatherland. 

Bayard's  happy  stay  in  Esslingen,  and  his  word-pic 
tures  of  its  attractions,  show  the  progress  which  he 
had  already  made  in  his  love  for  that  German  poetry, 
of  which  he  was  to  become  so  popular  an  expounder. 
He  praises  the  river  Neckar  and  its  flowery  banks,  he 
lauds  the  people,  he  portrays  the  landscapes  in  the 
brightest  colors  which  poetry  may  lend  to  prose. 
Bright  day  !  one  he  never  recalled  without  exclama 
tions  of  pleasure  ! 

After  such  interest  as  he  exhibited  in  the  country  of 
Schiller,  it  is  no  surprise,  the  next  day  after  leaving 
Esslingen,  to  find  him  in  Stuttgart,  looking  up  into 
the  pensive  face  of  Thorwaldsen's  colossal  statue  of 
Schiller.  So  attracted  and  entranced  was  he  by 
the  interpretation  of  Schiller,  made  by  the  natives,  the 
scenery,  and  the  old  home,  that  when  beautiful  Stutt 
gart  opens  its  avenues,  parks,  cathedrals,  palaces,  and 
galleries  to  him,  he  forsakes  and  neglects  them  all  for 
this  huge  but  faithfully  wrought  counterfeit  hi  stoue  of 


94  LIFE    OF   BAYARD   TAYLOR. 

the  persecuted  singer.  To  his  naturally  sentimental 
and  sensitive  character,  the  German  poet  was  revealed 
in  ideals  more  fascinating  than  any  realities.  He 
studied  the  face  of  his  brother  poet,  praised  his  beauty, 
repeated  a  broken  stanza  of  "  William  Tell,"  and  left 
the  other  attractions  of  Stuttgart  unseen. 

Passing  the  castle  of  Ludwigsburg,  and  skirting  the 
village  of  Marbach,  the  birth-place  of  Schiller,  a  village 
then  about  the  size  of  Kennett  now,  but  obliged  to 
push  on  for  fear  of  starvation,  he  walked  to  Betigheim, 
and  thence  the  next  day  to  his  first  German  home, 
Heidelberg. 


VISIT    TO    SWITZERLAND.  95 


CHAPTER  XII. 

Starts  for  Switzerland  and  Italy.  —  First  View  of  the  Alps.  —  The 
Falls  of  the  Rhine.  —  Zurich.  —  A  Poet's  Home.  —  Lake  Lucerne. 
—  Goethe's  Cottage.  —  Scenes  in  the  Life  of  William  Tell.  — 
Ascent  of  the  Alps  at  St.  Gothard.  —  Descent  into  Italy.  — 
The  Cathedral  at  Milan.  —  Bayard's  Characteristics.  —  Tramp 
to  Genoa.  —  Visits  Leghorn  and  Pisa.  —  Lovely  Florence.  — De 
lightful  Visits.  —  The  Home  of  Art. 

AUGUST  1,  1845,  Bayard  again  started  from  Frank 
fort  on  his  pedestrian  wanderings,  having  made  up  his 
mind  to  visit  Switzerland,  Florence,  Venice,  Rome, 
and  perhaps  Athens.  On  this  trip  his  cousin  Frank 
was  again  his  companion.  With  their  knapsacks  on 
their  shoulders  and  staffs  in  hand  they  began  another 
pilgrimage,  confident  and  strong.  With  but  a  small 
supply  of  money,  and  with  but  shadowy  probabilities 
of  more,  they  launched  out  into  a  world  to  them  un 
tried  and  unknown.  With  excited  imaginations  and 
the  keenest  anticipations  they  rose  above  every  dif 
ficulty  and  faced  boldly  the  probabilities  of  fatigue  and 
want.  They  made  a  short  stay  at  Freiburg  and  entered 
the  Black  Forest,  passing  the  Titi  Lake  and  the  Feld- 
berg  peak.  Bayard's  disposition  for  ascending  moun 
tains,  which  inclined  him  to  see  the  top  of  everything,  led 
him  to  go  up  the  cragged  side  of  the  Feldbeig,  from 


9()  LIFE    OF    BAYARD^TAYLOR. 

the  summit  of  which  he  could  just  make  out  the  white 
crests  of  the  Alps.  On  the  nearer  approach  to  them, 
and  when  from  the  last  ranges  of  the  hills  of  the  Black 
Forest,  they  beheld  the  white  Alps  in  all  their  inde 
scribable  grandeur  looming  up  at  the  other  side  of  the 
vast  plain,  Bayard  spoke  of  the  patriotic  feelings  which 
such  a  sight  must  excite,  in  the  mind  and  heart  of  a 
Swiss  returning  after  a  long  absence  to  his  native  land. 
He  thought  of  his  old  nurse  and  her  tales  of  the  Alpine 
scenery,  and  of  the  knolls  and  vales  of  his  own  home. 
It  is  no  wonder  that  the  Swiss  are  free  and  brave  and 
strong.  The  waterfalls,  cliffs,  and  cloud-piercing 
mountains  fill  the  soul  with  a  sense  of  grandeur  and 
glory  which  tends  toward  great  deeds  and  fervent 
patriotism.  Who  can  recall  the  eternal  snows,  the 
towering  shafts  of  rock,  the  roaring  caverns,  and 
sweetest  of  blue  lakes,  without  the  most  thrilling  emo 
tions  !  If  there  are  any  travellers  upon  whom  the 
memory  of  Switzerland  brings  no  such  feelings,  they 
are  the  exceptions.  Bayard's  nature  was  such  as  to 
enjoy  to  the  full,  and  sometimes  with  an  intensity  that 
was  almost  pain,  all  those  sublime  exhibitions  of  the 
power  and  majesty  of  the  great  Creator. 

The  fall  of  the  Rhine  near  Schaffhausen  hardly  met 
the  expectations  of  these  travellers,  who  had  heard 
their  German  friends  speak  in  such  strong  terms  of 
its  greatness.  It  is  a  most  beautiful  waterfall*  and 
when  viewed  from  the  platform  at  the  base  of  the 
cliff  beneath  the  castle,  startles  the  spectator  with  its 


AT   ZURICH.  97 

thundering  plunges  and  foaming  whirlpools.  To  a 
native  of  the  same  land  with  Niagara,  the  Yosemite, 
and  the  Yellowstone,  its  size  is  insignificant.  But  its 
beauty  as  a  picturesque  scene,  when  the  high  banks, 
the  long  rapids,  the  surging  pools  beneath,  and  the 
jagged  rocks  that  rise  through  and  above  the  spray 
and  rainbows,  are  included  in  the  panorama,  can  be 
described  only  in  the  strongest  language. 

From  Schaff  hausen  they  hurried  on  by  the  fields  of 
the  free  and  happy  Swiss  farmers,  and  along  highways 
that  reminded  him  of  his  Pennsylvania  home,  into  the 
city  of  Zurich.  There  he  carefully  noted  the  charac 
ter  and  customs  of  the  people.  He  was  cheered  by 
their  friendly  greetings,  he  was  surprised  at  their  in 
telligence,  he  was  pleased  by  the  happy  faces  of  the 
children,  and  he  was  proud  of  the  apparent  influence 
of  a  republic  over  its  people.  He  visited  the  cele 
brated  poet,  Freiligrath,  at  his  villa  on  the  shores  of 
the  lake,  where  the  young  American  poet  and  his  elder 
German  brother  had  a  most  social  talk  of  Bryant, 
Longfellow,  and  Whittier.  From  Freiligrath's  exile 
home,  they  walked  by  the  "Devil's  Bridge"  to  the 
Abbey  of  Einsiedeln,  where  the  crowd  of  pilgrims  and 
the  sweetest  of  singers  in  the  church  choir  made  a 
pleasant  and  charming  impression  upon  Bayard's  mind, 
Thence  by  valleys,  and  mountains,  so  broken  and 
grand,  and  by  streams  so  delicately  blue  that  descended 
to  the  placid  Zug,  they  journeyed  to  Lake  Lucerne. 
There,  on  the  shore,  in  a  charming  grotto,  upon  which 
7 


98  LIFE    OF   BAYARD   TAYLOR. 

the  Righi  and  Pilatus  look  down,  while  above  and  be 
yond  them  the  white  peaks  of  the  loftier  Alps  shim 
mer  in  the  sunshine  above  the  clouds,  William  Tell, 
the  father  of  Swiss  liberty,  had  his  home.  There,  in 
an  embowered  cottage,  that  peeped  from  the  leaves  like 
a  maiden  so  coy,  resided  for  a  long  time  the  poet 
Goethe;  and  there,  according  to  his  own  account,  he 
studied  the  plot  for  a  poem,  but  which  was  afterwards 
embodied  by  his  friend  Schiller  in  the  drama  of  "  Wil 
liam  Tell."  There  was  the  rock  on  which  Tell  leaped 
from  Gessler's  boat ;  there  grew  the  linden-tree  where 
Tell  shot  the  apple  from  the  head  of  his  son  ;  there  the 
chapel  of  William  Tell,  and  there  the  hundreds  of  in 
teresting  localities  connected  more  or  less  closely  with 
the  early  tyranny  of  Austria  and  the  heroic  resistance 
of  the  Swiss  .patriots.  Bayard  loved  the  works  of 
Schiller,  as,  in  fact,  could  hardly  be  avoided  by  any  one 
who  reads  them  in  the  original  tongue  and  amid  the 
scenes  so  strikingly  described. 

From  Burglen,  where  Tell  was  born  and  where  he  so 
heroically  died  while  attempting  to  save  a  child  from 
drowning,  they  marched  upward  along  the  banks  of  the 
Reuss  to  Amsteg,  and  thence  along  the  precipices  where 
the  craggy  mountains  rose  thousands  of  feet  above 
them,  and  the  wild  stream  surged  and  raged  far,  far 
below  them.  No  scene  more  wild  and  overwhelm 
ingly  grand  than  that  at  the  "Devil's  Bridge,"  over 
which  they  crossed  on  their  way  to  the  summit  of  St. 
Gothard.  Black  chasms  yawned  at  their  feet ;  cnor- 


ST.    GOTHARD.  99 

mous  shelving  rocks  hung  threatening  overhead. 
Clouds  of  spray,  like  steam  from  huge  ealdrons,  arose 
from  numberless  pits,  wherein  the  streams  boiled  and 
hissed  in  their  crevice-like  channels.  The  clear  air 
was  like  wine.  The  peaks  seemed  to  reach  to  heaven, 
and  gleamed  with  celestial  purity.  The  charm  of  the 
scenery  lifted  the  mind  and  awakened  the  holiest  emo 
tions,  while  the  balm  of  health  permeated  the  body, 
and  gave  it  a  strength  seemingly  supernatural.  What 
person  is  there  who  loves  not  the  dear  old  peaks  of 
Switzerland  !  Who  has  passed  the  heights  of  St.  Goth- 
ard  and  not  awakened  a  glow  in  his  body  and  an  im 
pulse  in  his  soul  that  strengthen  him  ever  after ! 

But  it  is  not  our  purpose  to  portray  to  the  reader 
the  scenes,  in  the  description  of  which  Bayard  so 
much  excelled,  and  hence,  making  note  only  of  such 
things  as  had  a  marked  influence  on  his  life  and  writ 
ings,  we  hastily  follow  him  in  his  pilgrimage  through 
the  vale  of  Ticino,  over  Lago  Maggiore,  to  the  gates  of 
Milan,  under  the  clear  blue  sky  of  lovely  Italy.  There 
the  most  magnificent  marble  Cathedral  in  all  the  world, 
when  considered  as  a  triumph  of  art  in  reproducing  the 
Beautiful,  lifted  its  spires  and  figures  above  the  roofs 
of  churches  and  palaces.  A  bewildering  forest  of 
peaks  and  towers  confuse  the  student  of  its  outline, 
and  innumerable  collections  of  exquisitely  wrought 
groups  and  statues  dishearten  and  confuse  the  student 
of  art.  Yet  the  unity  of  its  proportions,  and  the 
symmetry  of  its  archesjmd^ornices ,  were  recognized 


100  LIFE    OF   BAYARD    TAYLOR. 

by  all.  Bayard  trod  its  artistic  pavement  with  feel 
ings  of  awe  and  admiration.  He  gazed  long  upon  its 
aisles  and  pillars,  and  crept  on  tip-toe  into  the  shad 
ows  of  its  great  altar.  It  is  one  of  the  most  solemn 
things  in  life  to  stand  in  such  a  temple  of  genius. 
The  stained  windows,  with  their  sacred  figures  and 
symbols,  the  sweet  reverberations  of  the  sacred  music, 
the  low  chant  of  the  priests,  the  kneeling  forms  of 
penitent  worshippers,  the  strength  of  the  workman 
ship  and  vastness  of  its  sombre  recesses,  awaken  sen 
sations  that  sleep  in  the  open  air.  The  naturally 
vicious  and  cruel  avoid  those  chancels,  and  the  wise 
and  good  gain  encouragement  from  the  supreme  calm 
that  reigns  therein.  Bayard  enjoyed  his  stay  in  Milan 
and  his  visits  to  the  Cathedral  most  heartily,  and  it 
was  an  important  experience  in  the  development  of 
his  natural  character.  How  his  skill  in  observation, 
and  his  interest  in  everything  had  increased  !  Bright 
and  acute  by  nature,  he  saw  and  noted  many  things 
when  he  first  landed,  which  others  would  have  passed 
without  observing ;  but  those  months  of  discipline  and 
anxious  research  had  developed  this  characteristic, 
until,  as  he  enters  Italy,  he  notices  every  shrub,  every 
animal,  every  building,  every  man,  woman  and  child ; 
and  at  a  glance  passes  them  under  such  close  scrutiny 
that  he  is  able,  months  after,  to  describe  them  in  all  the 
details  of  form,  color,  nature,  association,  habits,  and 
occupation.  How  boundless  and  fathomless  is  the  un 
observed  about  us  I  How  few  notice  the  myriad  of 


CLOSE    OBSERVATION.  101 

interesting  and  enlightening  objects  and  incidents  that 
come  within  the  range  of  their  vision  !  The  disposi 
tion  and  aptitude  for  observation  is  as  indispensable 
to  the  traveller,  as  it  is  convenient  to  one  who  plods 
the  dull  routine  of  home  life.  Bayard  was  naturally 
discerning  and  inclined  to  investigate.  Such  will  be 
the  deliberate  conclusion  of  one  who  studies  his  life 
as  a  whole,  although  his  enemies  have  sometimes  taken 
advantage  of  his  modest  suppressions  to  accuse  him  of 
blindness.  Bayard  sees  a  child  in  the  garments  of 
priesthood,  and  pities  him  for  his  solitary  life.  He 
meets  a  poor  woman  and  notices  the  texture  of  her 
dress,  and  the  scar  upon  her  cheek.  He  looks  at  a 
painting  of  the  Cathedral,  and  observes  that  a  spire  is 
wanting.  He  looks  at  the  towers,  and  compares  those 
creations  of  art  with  the  more  rugged  spires  of  Monte 
Rosa's  ice-crags.  He  laments  the  ignorance  of  the 
people  whose  features  advertised  their  needs.  He 
studies  and  criticises  the  shape  and  position  of  the 
Arch  of  Peace,  and  the  bronze  groups  that  adorn  its 
summit:  shops,  toy-stands,  cabs,  soldiers,  flowers, 
priests,  dukes,  houses,  fields,  schools,  coin,  clothing, 
atmosphere,  and  food,  —  all  are  noticed  and  laid  away 
for  recollection,  as  without  order  they  attracted  his 
attention.  He  discovered  more  worth  relating  in  Milan 
than  some  travellers  saw  in  the  whole  of  Europe.* 

*  As  Bayard  says  of  Osse"o  in  his  poem  of  Mon-da-Miii:  — 

"  He  could  guess 

The  knowledge  other  minds  but  slowly  plucked 
From  out  the  heart  of  things :  to  him,  as  well 
As  to  his  Gods,  all  things  were  possible." 


102  LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

From  Milan  the  party  walked  to  Genoa,  going 
through  the  battle-fields  of  Hannibal  and  the  Caesars, 
along  highways  once  the  paved  roads  of  the  Roman 
Empire,  and  under  the  shadows  of  ancient  castles 
whose  walls  once  bristled  with  the  shields  of  knights 
and  spears  of  yeomen.  It  was  a  glorious,  though 
tedious  journey,  and  by  thus  travelling  in  the  manner 
of  pilgrims  they  met  the  inhabitants  at  their  usual  occu 
pations,  and  learned  much  of  the  customs  and  feelings 
of  the  common  people.  Such  information  comes  not 
through  the  windows  of  railroad  carriages,  nor  enters 
by  the  portals  of  grand  hotels. 

Having  visited  the  ducal  palaces,  cathedrals,  and 
parks  of  Genoa,  he  went  by  boat  to  Leghorn,  and 
thence  to  Pisa.  There  he  saw,  in  the  Cathedral,  the 
swinging  chandelier  which  led  Galileo  to  investigate 
the  laws  of  gravitation,  and  satisfied  his  curiosity 
by  ascending  the  Leaning  Tower,  and  left  the  city  with 
those  melodies  of  unearthly  sweetness,  which  the 
echoes  of  the  Baptistry  giv.e  forth,  still  ringing  in  his 
ears.  After  riding  all  night  in  a  rickety  cart,  and  suf 
fering  horribly  from  the  terrible  storm  and  jolting 
conveyance,  he  entered  the  sacred  precincts  of  that 
hallowed  city,  so  beautiful,  so  dear  to  the  heart  of  the 
poet  and  painter,  —  Florence. 

In  his  poem,  "The  Picture  of  St.  John,"  Bayard 
thus  speaks  of  that  enchanted  locality :  — 

"  Ab,  lovely  Florence!  never  city  wore 
So  shining  robes  as  I  on  tbee  bestowed : 


IN   FLORENCE.  103 

For  all  the  rapture  of  my  being  flowed 
Around  thy  beauty,  filling,  flooding  o'er 
The  banks  of  Arno  and  the  circling  hills, 
With  light  no  wind  of  sunset  ever  spills 
From  out  its  saffron  seas !  Once,  and  no  more, 
Life's  voyage  touches  the  enchanted  shore." 

During  his  stay  in  Florence,  Bayard  wrote  a  poem 
which  so  clearly  expressed  his  affection  for  the  maiden 
in  Kennett,  whom  he  afterwards  married,  that  many 
have  supposed  the  fictitious  title,  by  which  he  addressed 
her,  to  be  her  real  name.  In  that  poem  he  thus  re 
ferred  to  Florence :  — 

"  Dear  Lillian,   all  I  wished  is  won ! 
I  sit  beneath  Italia's  sun, 
Where  olive  orchards  gleam  and  quiver 
Along  the  banks  of  Arno's  river. 

Rich  is  the  soil  with  fancy's  gold ; 
The  stirring  memories  of  old 
Rise  thronging  in  my  haunted  vision, 
And  wake  my  spirit's  young  ambition." 

That  Italian  paradise,  situated  in  the  beautiful  vale 
of  that  most  charming  river,  is  perhaps  the  loveliest 
spot  in  all  that  land.  Being  the  home  of  such  artists 
as  Michael  Angelo  and  Raphael,  the  abode  of  such 
poets  as  Dante,  and  of  such  scientific  men  as  Galileo, 
it  possessed  an  intense  interest  because  of  its  associa 
tion  with  them.  Being  also  the  seat  of  the  De  Medici, 
of  Machiavelli,  of  Pitti,  and  the  resort  of  the  greatest 
American  poets  and  sculptors,  its  themes  for  verse  and 
prose  are  almost  numberless.  There  Bayard  made  a 


104  LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOE. 

stay  of  several  months.  He  devoted  himself  to  the 
study  of  the  Italian  language,  in  which  he  soon  be 
came  proficient,  and  visited  every  castle,  monastery, 
amphitheatre,  and  mountain  in  the  suburbs,  and  care 
fully  scrutinized  the  tombs  of  Sante  Croce,  the  inlaid 
work  of  the  Duomo,  and  those  marvels  of  art  in  the 
Pitti  and  Uffizi  galleries.  He  ever  after  mentioned 
his  first  stay  in  Florence  as  a  season  of  the  most  in 
tense  delight,  and  knowing  how  vast  is  the  field  for 
study  and  recreation,  and  his  peculiar  susceptibility  to 
all  the  lights  and  shades  of  art,  we  see  how  full  was 
his  heart  of  the  purest  and  most  satisfactory  intellectual 
joy.  There  he  saw  Raphael's  "St.  John  in  the  Desert," 
and  it  is  probable  that  the  painting  prompted  him  to 
write  the  poem  entitled  "The  Picture  of  St.  John," 
the  scene  of  which  is  laid  partly  in  Florence,  and  is 
one  of  his  most  valued  literary  productions.  There 
he  saw  the  Madonna  della  Sedia  of  Raphael,  the  com 
panion  piece  of  the  Madonna  he  saw  and  so  much 
admired  in  Dresden.  There  he  saw  Titian's  Goddess, 
so  radiant  with  feminine  beauty,  a'l-d  there  Michael 
Angelo's  first  attempt  at  sculpture  ;  —  «o  many  treasures 
of  art  are  there,  and  so  many  sacn  I  places  renowned 
in  history,  that  the  great  city  gaiiif  its  living  from  the 
visitors  and  students  that  fill  its  b  ,tels,  and  crowd  its 
churches  and  museums.  Bayard  actually  loved  Flor 
ence,  and  returned  to  it  afterwards  vith  that  irresist 
ible  yearning  which  a  young  man  f,ils  for  the  home 
of  his  lover. 


FROM   FLORENCE   TO   ROME.  105 

There  remains  in  all  the  world  but  one  other  place 
for  the  artist  after  he  has  seen  and  appreciated  Flor 
ence.  His  love  for  the  exquisitely  sweet  and  beautiful 
is  satisfied,  — all  the  tender  and  delicate  links  between 
art  and  nature  can  there  be  seen  and  felt.  An  exhi 
bition  of  the  mighty,  grand,  colossal  side  of  art 
remains;  and  to  the  lover  of  such  exhibitions,  and  to 
the  romance-seeker  who,  like  Bayard,  desires  to  walk 
the  dusty  halls,  peopled  with  the  ghosts  of  half-for 
gotten  ages,  Rome  still  waits. 


106  LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOK. 


CHAPTER   Xin. 

Visit  to  Rome.  —  Attractions  of  its  Ruins.  —  Bayard's  Persistent 
Searches.  —  His  Limited  Means.  —  Sights  and  Experiences.  — 
Journey  to  Marseilles.  —  Walks  to  Lyons.  —  Desperate  Circum 
stances.  —  Stay  in  Paris.  —  Employment  of  his  Time.  —  De 
parture  for  London.  —  Failure  to  obtain  Money  or  Work.  — 
Seeks  a  Friend.  —  Obtains  Help  from  a  Stranger.  —  Voyage  to 
New  York.  —  Arrival  Home. 

WHO  has  entered  the  aged  city  of  Rome  and  not  felt 
the  power  of  its  thrilling  associations?  How  the 
doors  of  history  swing  open  before  the  traveller,  and 
how  sublime  the  panorama  which  unfolds  to  his  view  ! 
How  swiftly  pass  the  scenes  of  pomp  and  the  parades 
of  heroes  !  It  cannot  be  described.  It  must  be  felt 
to  be  understood.  It  requires  no  very  active  imag 
ination  to  see  again  the  strong  walls,  the  towers,  the 
gates,  the  majestic  temples,  and  the  superb  Capitol 
rising  over  all.  To  be  able  to  walk  its  paved 
streets,  and  wend  about  its  Corinthian  porches,  and 
through  its  marvellous  arches  ;  to  rush  with  the  crowds 
of  Romans  to  a  seat  in  the  Coliseum ;  to  march  in 
the  triumphal  processions,  and  to  listen  to  the  echo  of 
Cicero's  voice  among  the  pillars  of  the  Forum,  is  no 
very  difficult  dream,  when  the  same  buildings  which 
saw  and  heard  those  things  are  yet  before  you.  One 


AT   ROME.  107 

can,  stand  in  the  shadows  of  ancient  ruins,  when  the 
moon  gives  light  enough  to  see  the  outline,  but  not 
sufficient  to  show  the  scars  which  the  ages  have  given 
them,  and  witness  again  the  gatherings  of  the  Roman 
people,  and  make  out  the  forms  of  Cincinnatus,  of 
Scipio,  of  Manus,  of  Caesar,  of  Cicero,  of  Augustus, 
or  of  Constantine,  as  their  lumbering  chariots  jolt 
over  the  pavements  and  around  the  palace  walls.  The 
Tiber,  which  rolls  on  its  ceaseless  course,  and  which 
saw  the  faces  of  Livy,  Horace,  and  Virgil,  moves  by 
the  Tarpcian  Rock,  and  the  Campus  Martius,  with  the 
same  eddying  playfulness  as  it  exhibited  then.  New 
glories  gild  the  clouds,  and  new  temples  adorn  the 
adjacent  plains.  Jupiter  gives  way  to  Jehovah,  priests 
of  Janus  and  Venus  stand  aside  for  monks  and  friars 
to  fill  their  office.  The  Coliseum  crumbles,  as  St. 
Paul's  lifts  its  grand  facades.  Capitolinus  falls  and 
St.  Peter's  fills  the  bow  of  heaven.  Marvels  of  an 
cient  art  grow  dusty  with  the  ages,  while  new  forms, 
so  divinely  conceived,  so  incomparably  wrought,  and 
so  immaculate  in  modesty  and  matchless  in  color, 
spring  into  being  at  the  call  of  the  later  civilization. 
All  is  interesting,  exciting,  glorious  !  One  walks  the 
streets  in  dreams,  lulled  by  the  musical  cadences  of 
the  rippling  native  language.  Words  cannot  convey 
the  feelings  awakened  by  that  new  sense,  which  dis 
cerns  and  interprets  the  ancient  and  modern  associa 
tions  of  Rome.  The  traveller  feels  as  if  he  were  a  com 
panion  of  the  great  and  powerful,  of  the  refined  and 


108  LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

good,  who  have  walked  those  streets  before  him,  and 
ever  after  the  words  they  spoke,  and  the  books  they 
wrote,  have  a  fresh  and  unabating  interest. 

So  Bayard  saw  the  ancient  city,  although  he  has 
described  it  somewhat  differently.  Rome  was  to 
Florence  what  the  Apollo  is  to  the  Venus  de  Medici, 
each  enhancing  the  beauty  of  the  other,  and  losing 
nothing  by  comparison.  It  was  near  the  first  of  Jan- 
uary,  1$46,  when  the  subject  of  these  sketches  entered 
Home  and  took  up  his  abode  in  a  lowly  tavern  oppo 
site  the  front  of  the  Pantheon.  In  a  most  humble, 
almost  beggarly  way,  he  obtained  his  food  at  the 
cheapest  places,  and  walked  among  those  old  ruins  in 
the  most  unobtrusive  manner.  He  was  too  poor,  and 
earned  too  little  as  a  newspaper  correspondent,  to 
spend  aught  on  the  luxuries  of  Rome.  Hence  all  his 
his  time  and  attention  were  on  that  which  pleased  the 
eye  and  satisfied  the  mind,  rather  than  upon  those 
things  which  gratify  the  appetite  or  inflate  the  pride. 
He  walked  to  the  Coliseum  by  moonlight,  and  heeded 
not  fatigue.  For  within  its  cragged  circuit  he  saw 
again  the  excited  hosts,  the  gay  ladies  about  the  im 
perial  throne,  the  writhing  Christian,  and  the  lions 
with  bloody  jaws.  Or  he  saw  the  fiercer  human  beings 
engaged  in  the  gladiatorial  combat,  saw  the  flash  of 
shields  and  swords,  heard  the  groan  of  the  dying  as  it 
was  drowned  by  the  rising  shouts  for  the  victor. 
He  searched  the  hidden  recesses  of  the  baths,  palaces, 
arches,  prisons,  and  churches,  which  remain  as  remind- 


VISITS    IN   ROME.  109 

ers  of  the  old  city ;  he  marched  far  out  on  the  Appian 
Way  and  contemplated  its  tombs  and  mysterious  piles 
in  laborious  detail ;  he  sketched  the  spirals  of  Trajan's 
Column,  and  drew  a  plan  of  the  ancient  Capitol.  In 
awe-stricken  silence  he  walked  beneath  the  dome  of 
mighty  St.  Peter's,  and  marvelled  in  worshipful  mood 
before  those  exquisite  mosaics.  He  lingered  long  and 
lovingly  in  the  great  labyrinth  of  the  Vatican,  wept  at 
the  sight  of  some  of  those  great  paintings,  and  bowed 
with  respect  to  the  greatest  productions  of  the  greatest 
sculptors.  Few  will  give  credit  to  the  glowing  pic 
tures  which  he  draws  of  the  arts  in  Rome,  nor  believe 
the  strong  assertions  we  herein  make,  who  have  not 
been  there  and  experienced  the  same  sensations. 

He  visited  in  pious  respect  the  tombs  of  Tasso, 
Keats,  and  Shelley,  and  found  his  way  into  the  studios 
of  the  modern  artists.  He  took  short  trips  into  the 
country,  and  once  stopped  for  the  night  under  the 
shadows  of  the  Temple  of  Vesta  at  Tivoli.  Be}rond 
Rome  he  could  not  go.  For  once,  Dame  Fortune 
turned  her  back  upon  him.  If  he  would  see  Naples, 
Pompeii,  and  Samos,  he  must  have  money.  Money 
he  could  not  get.  Grievously  disappointed,  yet  thank 
ful  for  what  he  had  seen,  he  most  devoutly  thanks  God, 
and  turns  northward. 

At  Civita  Vecchia  to  which  place  he,  as  usual, 
walked,  he  embarked,  third  class,  on  a  steamboat  for 
Marseilles.  The  beds  were  rough  planks,  the  food  was 
drenched  like  himself,  and  fleas  infested  every  stitch  of 


110          LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

covering.  It  stormed,  and  Bayard  might  Lave  perished 
with  exposure  to  the  bad  weather,  had  not  a  sailor 
taken  compassion  on  him  and  his  companion,  and  lent 
them  some  clothing.  That  kindness  he  ever  remem 
bered,  and  it  may  have  been  in  his  mind  when,  after 
meeting  many  sailors,  he  wrote  of  them  : — 

"  They  do  not  act  with  a  studied  grace, 
They  do  not  speak  in  delicate  phrase, 
But  the  candor  of  heaven  is  on  their  face, 
And  the  freedom  of  ocean  in  all  their  ways. 

They  cannot  fathom  the  subtle  cheats, 
The  lying  arts  that  the  landsmen  learn : 
Each  looks  in  the  eyes  of  the  man  he  meets, 
And  whoso  trusts  him,  he  trusts  in  turn. 

But  whether  they  die  on  sea  or  shore, 

And  lie  under  water,  or  sand,  or  sod, 

Christ  give  them  the  rest  that  he  keeps  in  store, 

And  anchor  their  souls  in  the  harbor  of  God ! " 

He  arrived  at  Marseilles  with  but  five  dollars  for 
the  expense  of  a  journey  of  five  hundred  miles  on  foot. 
Dark  outlook,  indeed,  on  entering  for  the  first  time  a 
country  with  whose  language  he  was  unacquainted. 
Through  rain  and  mud,  sunshine  and  darkness,  he 
moved  on,  courageous  as  ever,  and  enjoying  with  the 
same  zest  his  glimpses  of  ancient  cathedrals  and  re 
nowned  localities.  At  Lyons  he  received  a  small 
amount  of  money  by  mail,  and  at  a  time  when  death  by 
starvation  seemed  but  a  few  hours  removed.  The 


ENTERS   PABI8.  Ill 

story  of  his  mishaps  by  land  and  by  water,  on  his  way 
from  Lyons  to  Paris  is  a  very  exciting  narration,  as 
he  relates  them  in  his  "  Views  Afoot,"  and  yet  shows 
the  best  side  of  a  most  terrible  experience.  But  Paris 
was  reached  at  last,  and  in  the  first  week  of  February, 
1846,  they  found  a  lodging  place  in  the  Rue  de  la 
Harpe,  at  the  rate  of  two  dollars  and  eighty  cents  a 
month.  He  lived  on  twenty  cents  a  day,  and  in  place 
of  a  teacher  of  French,  subscribed  at  a  circulating 
library  and  picked  out  the  words  and  phrases  by  down 
right  hard  study  in  his  tireless  and  damp  attic.  For 
five  weeks  he  studied  and  rambled  and  endured  priva 
tion,  learning  Paris  by  heart  and  finding  himself  made 
free  and  happy  by  the  atmosphere  of  gayety  which  per 
vades  everything  there.  His  favorite  resort  was  the 
Place  de  la  Concorde,  which  is  an  open  space  at  one 
side  of  the  palace  of  the  Tuileries,  and  at  the  foot  of 
that  magnificent  embowered  avenue  called  the  Champs 
Elyse"es.  There  were  then,  as  now,  the  enchanting 
groves,  with  the  gardens,  concert  bowers,  and  shy 
booths.  There  was  the  obelisk  from  Luxor,  which 
called  Bayard's  attention  to  Egypt  and  created  a  strong 
desire  to  see  that  ancient  land  of  the  Nile.  There  were 
the  solid  walls  of  the  Tuileries  upon  one  side,  the  river 
Seine  upon  another,  while  the  twin  palaces,  with  the 
distant  front  of  the  Madeleine  Church  showing  between 
them,  shut  out  the  populous  city  on  the  other.  But 
the  pavements,  flowers,  fountains,  bronze  figures,  ob 
elisk  and  palaces  were  the  least  of  the  attractions 


112  LIFE   OP   BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

which  called  this  persevering  young  student  to  that 
celebrated  square.  It  was  there  that  many  of  the  most 
important  acts  in  the  history  of  France  were  performed. 
It  was  there  that  kings  were  made,  and  there  they 
were  beheaded.  It  was  there  that  priests  had  preached , 
and  there  that  they  were  murdered.  It  was  there  that 
in  the  crimson  and  lurid  days  of  '94,  the  Red  Revo 
lutionists  each  day  filled  the  baskets  at  the  foot  of 
the  guillotine  with  the  heads  of  twoscore  and  often 
threescore  citizens.  Who  would  surmise  that  in  a 
city  so  gay,  so  cheerful,  so  imbued  with  the  very  spirit 
of  pleasure  and  childlike  life,  such  hideous  deeds  of 
blood  and  destruction  could  be  performed  !  Quick 
tempered,  excitable  people,  going  with  the  flash  of  a 
thought  from  one  extreme  to  the  other.  No  place  in 
all  Paris  better  exhibits  the  character  of  the  nation, 
than  the  Place  de  la  Concorde.  There  Bayard  often 
lingered  and  pondered,  seeing  clearly  through  the  film 
of  gay  attire,  garlands  of 'roses,  delightful  wines,  and 
gorgeous  carriages,  the  dangerous  yet  often  heroic 
elements,  which  have  so  often  thrown  off  the  crust  of 
fashion  and  politeness,  and  flooded  the  beautiful  city 
with  seething  torrents  from  the  deepest  hell. 

He  sought  out  the  masterpieces  of  art  in  the  galleries, 
cathedrals,  and  parks,  and  dwelt  long  and  caressingly 
upon  their  entrancing  forms,  having  now  passed 
through  a  school  that  left  him  a  competent  critic.  He 
gazed  after  the  carriage  where  Louis  Philippe  rode  in 
state,  and  wondered  if  such  a  monarchy  could  endure, 


PARIS    TO   LONDON.  113 

and  with  a  powerful  yearning  fumbled  the  unintelligi 
ble  leaves  of  Victor  Hugo,  Beranger,  and  Lamartine  — 
not,  however,  to  be  long  unintelligible. 

There,  again,  he  was  in  financial  distress,  and  was 
saved  from  great  suffering  by  the  unexpected  kindness 
of  a  merchant,  who,  like  Mr.  Chandler  and  Mr.  Patter 
son  at  the  beginning  of  his  career,  loaned  him  money, 
although  Bayard  was  a  stranger  and  could  give  no 
security. 

From  Paris  via  Versailles  and  Rouen,  he  walked  to 
Dieppe,  and,  after  crossing  the  Channel,  travelled  by 
third-class  car  to  London,  where  he  arrived  with  but 
thirty  cents  in  French  money.  With  no  money  to  pay 
his  lodging,  with  a  letter  from  home  in  the  post-office, 
on  which  he  could  not  pay  the  postage,  he  made  desper 
ate  attempts  to  obtain  employment  as  a  printer.  But  the 
"  Trade  Unions  "  were  so  omnipotent,  that  no  strang 
er  without  a  certificate  could  be  set  at  work  without  a 
"  strike."  At  last,  when  long  without  his  usual  meals,  and 
sure  of  being  refused  a  lodging,  he  applied  to  Mr.  Put 
nam,  who  was  conducting  the  London  agency  of  the  Amer 
ican  publishing  firm,  who  loaned  him  five  dollars,  and 
he  could  again  eat  and  sleep.  Several  weeks  of  waiting 
intervened,  in  which  Mr.  Putnam  kindly  kept  Bayard 
in  employment,  at  a  salary  sufficient  to  pay  his  board, 
before  the  money  came  from  America  to  take  them 
home.  Even  then  the  captain  of  the  vessel  on  which 
he  returned  with  his  two  friends  win/  started  with  him 
nearly  two  years  before,  was  i!**"1  polled  to  take  a 
8 


114  LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

promise  for  a  part  of  the  fare.  Captain  Morgan,  who 
commanded  the  vessel,  was  one  of  the  noblest  men  that 
ever  paced  a  deck,  and  so  popular  did  he  become,  that 
his  biography  was  published  thirty  years  after  this 
passage,  in  an  illustrated  number  of  "Scribner's  Maga 
zine."  Their  voyage  was  a  fair  one ,  their  landing  in  New 
York  a  happy  one  ;  but  no  pen  except  his  own  can  de 
scribe  the  joy  of  seeing  again  his  own  country,  and  of 
walking  at  evening  into  the  door  of  that  home  which 
he  left  two  years  before  as  a  boy,  and  to  which  he  then 
returned  a  man. 


EDITS   A   NEWSPAPER.  115 


CHAPTER  XIV 

Edits  a  Country  Newspaper.  —  The  "  Phoenixville  Pioneer."  —  The 
Discouragements.  —  The  Suspension.  —  Publishes  "  Views 
Afoot."  —  Introduction  to  Literary  Men.  —  Contributes  to  the 
"  Literary  World."  —  Becomes  an  Editor  of  the  New  York  "  Trib 
une." —  The  Gold  Excitement  of  1849.  —  Resolves  to  visit  the 
Eldorado.  —  Arrival  in  California. 

BAYARD  TAYLOR'S  gifts  were  not  such  as  would  con 
tribute  toward  the  success  of  a  country  newspaper  — 
so  delicate,  refined,  poetical,  and  classical,  we  wonder 
that  he  should  ever  have  undertaken  so  uncongenial  a 
work.  The  best  things  which  he  could  write  would  be 
dull  as  lead  to  the  majority  of  his  readers.  The  more 
literary  merit  his  editorials  and  poems  contained,  the 
less  likely  were  they  to  receive  the  praise  of  his  sub 
scribers.  Yet  his  disposition  to  work  was  so  inherent 
in  every  nerve,  that  he  had  not  been  at  home  one  week 
from  his  tour  of  Europe  before  he  was  searching  for  a 
place  for  editorial  work  or  correspondence.  .  Mr.  Fred 
erick  Foster,  who  was  an  old  acquaintance  and  who  also 
had  been  in  the  office  of  the  West  Chester  "  Village 
.Record,"  suggested  the  establishment  of  a  weekly  news 
paper.  As  they  looked  for  an  opening  for  such  an  enter 
prise,  they  hit  upon  the  town  of  Phoenixville,  Pa. ,  as  the 
most  advantageous  locality.  Phoenixville  was  then  a 


116  LIFE    OF   BAYARD   TAYLOR. 

prosperous  village,  containing  about  two  thousand  in 
habitants,  twenty-seven  miles  from  Philadelphia  and 
thirty-one  miles  from  Reading.  There  were  rolling- 
mills,  furnaces,  and  a  variety  of  manufactories  in  the 
town,  and  the  people  constituted  an  enterprising  and 
unusually  vigorous  community.  There  Mr.  Taylor  and 
Mr.  Foster  began  the  publication  of  the  "Pioneer," 
and  with  high  hopes  and  an  alarming  confidence, 
waited  neither  for  capital  nor  subscribers. 

Mr.  Taylor  has  often  related  to  his  friends  some 
most  amusing  anecdotes  connected  with  his  life  as  a 
country  editor.  One  subscriber  wanted  a  glossary, 
another  wished  to  see  the  local  gossip  about  John 
Henry  Smith's  surprise  party,  instead  of  the  dull 
columns  of  literary  reviews.  One  suggested  that  two 
editors  would  kill  any  paper,  while  another  ventured 
to  assert  that  he  himself  would  edit  the  paper  for  them 
at  three  hundred  dollars  a  year  and  "find  shears." 

It  was  a  difficult  task.  To  edit  the  New  York  "  Her 
ald"  would  have  been  far  easier  and  better  suited  to  Mr. 
Taylor's  genius.  The  people  of  Phoenixville,  how 
ever,  began  to  appreciate  their  privileges  after  the 
lack  of  support  compelled  the  young  journalists  to  close 
their  office  and  suspend  the  publication  of  the  paper ; 
and  financial  aid  to  re-establish  the  "Pioneer"  was 
generously  offered.  But  one  year  in  such  an  unappre 
ciated  labor  was  enough  for  Mr.  Taylor,  and  he  left 
Phcenixville,  according  to  his  own  account,  considerably 
wiser  and  poorer  than  he  was  when  he  entered  it.  Jf 


PUBLISHES   A    BOOK.  117 

any  of  our  readers  has  attempted  to  start  a  literary 
paper  in  the  country,  and  passed  through  the  perplex 
ities  of  financial  management  and  rude  discouragements, 
he  will  need  no  words  to  prompt  his  most  hearty  sym 
pathy  with  the  work,  and  the  suspension  of  Mr.  Tay 
lor's  undertaking.  To  make  successful  a  publication 
of  that  character  in  a  scattered  and  small  community, 
requires  a  greater  diversity  of  talent,  greater  manual 
labor,  and  a  closer  study  of  all- various  human  nature, 
than  it  does  to  conduct  the  largest  establishments  in 
the  limitless  field  of  a  great  city.  Mr.  Taylor's  expe 
rience  simply  added  another  illustration  of  the  univer- 
cal  rule.  His  best  articles  were  unappreciated  or  be 
lieved  to  be  borrowed,  and  everything  hindered  the 
pursuit  of  that  conscientious  literary  aspiration  which 
feels  keenly  the  failings  and  improprieties  of  superficial 
work. 

It  was  in  this  year  that  Mr.  Taylor  prepared,  and 
Mr.  Putnam  published,  his  surprisingly  attractive 
volume,  entitled  "Views  Afoot."  With  such  Quaker- 
like  simplicity  was  it  written,  and  such  a  noble 
spirit  of  poetry  prevaded  the  descriptions  of  scenery 
men,  and  art,  that  it  leaped  into  popular  favor  on  the 
prestige  of  its  advance  sheets.  Its  success  was  a 
forcible  example  of  the  winning  power  of  simple 
truth.  Its  interest  will  never  abate,  because  he  did 
not  assume  the  pompous  airs  of  an  infallible  critic,  but 
rather  chose  to  pretend  to  nothing  but  describe  what 
he  saw  as  it  appeared  to  him. 


118  LITE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

The  success  of  that  book  introduced  him  at  once 
into  the  literary  circles  of  New  York,  where,  with  the 
friendship  of  Mr.  Willis,  Mr.  Parke  Godwin,  Mr. 
Horace  Greeley,  Mr.  William  Cullen  Bryant,  and 
many  others,  well  known  as  men  of  the  highest  cult 
ure,  he  received  a  most  cordial  welcome.  He  was 
at  once  secured  by  the  management  of  the  "  Literary 
World,"  a  periodical  issued  weekly  in  New  York,  and 
which,  from  1847  to  1853,  held  the  highest  place  in 
literary  criticism  and  classical  composition  gained  by 
any  American  magazine  or  paper  of  that  period. 

When  he  sought  employment  on  the  New  York 
"Tribune,"  in  1848,  a  place  was  readily  found  for  him, 
and  he  began,  by  the  contribution  of  small  articles, 
his  long  and  honorable  career  as  one  of  the  editors 
of  that  influential  journal. 

In  the  spring  of  1849,  Mr.  Greeley  suggested  to 
Mr.  Taylor  the  importance  of  having  some  trustworthy 
information  from  the  gold  regions  of  California,  about 
which  there  was  then  so  much  excitement.  The  peo 
ple  read,  with  the  greatest  avidity,  every  scrap  of  news 
or  gossip  from  the  gold-fields,  and  thousands  we're  on 
their  way  by  steam  and  by  overland  mule-trains  to 
seek  their  fortunes  in  that  Eldorado.  At  no  period 
of  our  nation's  history,  not  excepting  the  agitation  at 
the  beginning  of  great  wars,  have  the  people  of  this 
country  exhibited  such  uncontrollable  excitement  as 
they  displayed  at  that  time. 

The  rich  sold  their  property  to  the  first  bidder,  and 


GOLD   FEVER.  119 

took  the  first  conveyance ;  while  the  poor  started  on 
foot,  with  nothing  to  preserve  them  from  the  starvation 
which  followed  in  the  desert.  For  a  time  it  appeared 
as  if  New  England  and  the  Middle  States  would  be 
left  without  sufficient  male  population  to  carry  on  the 
routine  of  official  duty. 

In  the  height  of  that  feverish  exodus  Mr.  Taylor 
decided  to  fall  in  with  the  tide,  and  drifting  with  the 
current,  tell  the  readers  of  the  "  Tribune  "  what  he  saw 
and  heard.  Hence,  in  June,  he  took  passage  on  a 
crowded  steamer  for  Panama,  and  after  a  dreadful 
experience  in  crossing  the  Isthmus,  steamed  up  the 
Pacific  Coast  and  entered  the  Golden  Gate. 


120  LIFE    OF   BAYARr    TAYLOR. 


CHAPTER    XV. 


Entrance  to  California.  —  The  Camp  at  San  Francisco  in  1849.— 
Description  of  the  People.  —  Gold-Hunters.  —  Speculations.  — 
Prices  of  Merchandise.  —  Visit  to  the  Diggings.  —  Adventures 
on  the  Route. — The  First  Election. — The  Constitutional  Con 
vention. —  San  Francisco  after  Two  Months'  Absence.  —  Poetical 
Descriptions. —  Departure  for  Mexico. — Arrival  at  Mazatlan. 
—  Overland  to  the  Capital.  —  Adventure  with  Robbers.  —  Re 
turn  to  New  York. 


THE  circumstances  under  which  Mr.  Taylor  entered 
California,  were  in  striking  contrast  with  those  which 
surrounded  him  when  he  made  his  first  attempt  to  see 
the  world.  For,  when  he  started  for  his  European 
tour,  and  throughout  the  whole  period  of  his  stay  there, 
he  was  hindered  and  annoyed  by  the  lack  of  money, 
and  by  the  lack  of  acquaintances.  Then,  he  was 
dependent  wholly  upon  his  own  earnings  and  economy 
for  every  privilege  he  enjoyed.  He  had  nothing 
substantial  behind  him,  and  nothing  certain  before 
him.  But  in  California  he  moves  among  the  people 
with  the  prestige  and  capital  of  a  powerful  journal 
behind  him,  and  before  him  the  certainty  of  ample 
remuneration  for  all  his  trials.  He  is  no  longer  the 
unknown,  uncared-for  stripling,  whose  adventures  are 
regarded  as  visionary,  and  whose  company  was  an 


SAN   FRANCISCO.  121 

intrusion.  He  was  the  welcomed  guest  of  naval  offi 
cers,  of  army  officers,  and  invited  to  the  home  of 
the  Military  Governor,  and  to  the  headquarters  of 
Gen.  John  C.  Fremont. 

When  he  entered  San  Francisco,  that  place  was 
only  a  miners'  camp,  composed  of  tents,  barracks, 
piles  of  merchandise,  and  tethered  mules.  How 
utterly  incomprehensible  it  seems  now  to  the  visitor 
to  that  great  metropolis,  when  he  reads  that,  as  late 
as  1849,  there  were  only  huts  and  tents  where  now 
stand  the  palatial  business  blocks,  gorgeous  hotels, 
and  miles  of  residences  made  of  brick  and  stone  !  It 
was  an  interesting  time  to  visit  the  Pacific  shore,  and 
most  interestingly  did  Mr.  Taylor  describe  it  in  his 
letters,  and  in  his  book  entitled  "Eldorado."  The  great 
camp  of  San  Francisco  was  but  a  few  weeks  old  when 
he  arrived  there  ;  but,  in  its  boiling  humanity,  Mr. 
Taylor  noticed  Malays,  Chinamen,  Mexicans,  Ger 
mans,  Englishmen,  Yankees,  Indians,  Japanese, 
Chilians,  Hawaiians,  and  Kanakas,  rushing,  shouting, 
gesticulating,  like  madmen.  Gold !  Gold !  Gold ! 
Everything,  anything  for  gold !  Though  hundreds 
lay  in  the  swamps  of  Panama,  dead  or  dying  with 
the  cholera ;  although  the  bleaching  bones  of  many 
enthusiasts  gleamed  in  the  sun  on  the  great  American 
aesert;  although  thousands  had  perished  in  the 
thickets,  snows,  and  floods  of  the  Sierra  Nevada, 
their  eyes  never  to  be  gratified  with  the  sight  of  gold- 
dust;  yet  the  increasing  multitude  followed  faster, 


122  LIFE    OF   BAYARD    TAYLOR. 

and  more  recklessly  in  their  footsteps.  Into  such  a 
mass  of  half-insane  humanity,  did  Mr.  Taylor  thrust 
himself,  that  the  world,  as  well  as  himself,  might 
profit  thereby.  Great  names  were  given  to  the 
smallest  things,  and  prices  larger  than  the  names 
The  Parker  House  was  a  board  shanty  with  lodg 
ing-rooms  at  twenty-five  dollars  a  week,  and  was 
not  more  than  seventy  feet  square,  but  rented  to  the 
landlord  for  one  hundred  and  ten  thousand  dollars  a 
year.  Newspapers  sold  for  a  dollar  each,  and  nearly 
every  class  of  merchandise  from  the  Eastern  States 
brought  a  profit  of  several  thousand  per  cent.  The 
wages  of  a  common  laborer  were  from  fifteen  dollars  to 
twenty  dollars  a  day,  while  real  estate  went  up  so  fast 
in  price,  that  few  dared  to  sell,  lest  the  next  day 
should  show  that  they  had  lost  a  fortune.  One  man, 
who  died  insolvent,  but  having,  in  his  name  a  small 
tract  of  land,  left  after  all  a  million  of  dollars  to  his 
heirs,  so  much  did  the  lands  increase  in  value  before 
the  estate  was  settled. 

Fortunes  were  made  in  a  single  day.  If  a  man 
arrived  there  with  anything  to  sell,  he  could  put  his 
own  price  upon  it,  and  dispose  of  it  to  the  first 
comer.  One  man,  whose  store  was  a  log-cabin  with 
a  canvas  roof,  made  five  hundred  thousand  dollars  in 
eight  months.  Gambling  was  carried  on  in  an  equally 
magnificent  scale.  Greater  bets  than  Baden-Baden  or 
Monaco  ever  saw,  were  common-place  there.  Millions 
of  dollars  changed  hands  every  day.  Gold  was  so 


THE   DIGGINGS.  123 

plentiful,  that  boys  made  immense  profits,  gathering, 
out  of  the  dust  in  the  streets,  the  nuggets  and  fine 
gold  which  had  been  carelessly  allowed  to  drop  from 
the  miners'  bags  or  pockets. 

From  that  strangest  of  all  strange  medleys,  Mr. 
Taylor  travelled,  mule-back,  through  a  wild  and  dan 
gerous  region,  to  Stockton,  and  thence  to  the  produc 
tive  "  diggings "  on  Mokelumne  River.  There  he 
saw  the  miners  hard  at  work  gathering  the  gold  in 
the  most  primitive  manner.  The  sands  found  in  the 
dry  bed  of  the  river  were  mixed  with  gold,  while  in 
the  crevices  and  little  holes  in  the  rocks,  pieces  of 
gold,  varying  from  the  size  of  a  five-cent  piece  to  that 
of  a  hen's  egg,  were  frequently  found.  Gold  from 
the  sand  was  gathered  by  shaking  a  bowlful  of  it 
until  the  heaviest  particles  fell  through  to  the  bottom ; 
and  by  washing  away  the  finer  particles  of  dirt,  and 
picking  out  the  stones  with  the  fingers.  Nearly  every 
miner  found  some  gold ;  but  those  who  made  the 
immense  fortunes  were  quite  rare.  For  many  of  such 
as  were  in  luck,  and  who  found  great  sums,  were  so 
sure  of  finding  more,  that  they  squandered  what  they 
had  discovered,  in  a  manner  most  unfortunate  for 
them,  but  very  fortunate  for  those  who  had  found 
nothing.  All  the  details,  experiences,  and  adventures 
of  these  followers  of  Mammon  were  exhibited  to  Mr. 
Taylor,  and  the  most  tempting  -offers  made  to  him  to 
dig  for  himself.  But,  true  to  his  employers,  he 
turned  from  mines  "  with  millions  in  them,"  and  wrote 


124          LIFE  OF  BAY ABB  TAYLOR. 

letters  for  the  "Tribune."  Over  jagged  mountains, 
through  thickets  of  thorns,  through  muddy  rivers, 
over  desert  plains,  and  along  routes,  dangerous  alike 
from  man  and  beast,  he  fearlessly  pursued  his  journey 
of  observation,  exhibiting  many  of  those  character 
istics  which  have  distinguished  H.  M.  Stanley,  that 
other  great  correspondent.  Sights  he  saw  that  curdled 
the  blood;  men  he  met,  pale,  haggard,  and  dying; 
bones  he  saw  of  lost  and  starved  miners ;  and  the 
extremes  of  misery  and  joy,  wealth  and  poverty, 
generosity  and  meanness,  faith  in  God,  and  worship 
of  the  devil,  which  must  have  bewildered  him. 

The  fact  that  he  had  money  and  social  influence  did 
not  protect  him  from  the  hardships  common  to  all  trav 
ellers  who  visited  the  gold  mines  of  California  at  that 
early  period.  Many  nights  he  slept  in  the  open  air, 
having  his  single  blanket  and  the  cold  earth  for  a  bed. 
Often  he  made  his  couch  on  a  table  or  the  floor  in  some 
rude  and  dirty  cabin.  Sometimes  he  was  lost  in  the 
woods  or  among  the  mountains,  and  frequently  suffered 
long  for  food  and  water.  He  was  determined  to  see 
the  land  and  its  freight  of  human  life  in  its  mcst  prac 
tical  form,  although  by  so  doing  he  often  risked  th<- 
loss  of  comfort,  of  property,  and  occasionally  of  his 
life. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  chapters  of  history  to  be 
found  in  any  work  connected  with  life  in  the  United 
States,  is  to  be  found  in  his  simple  but  graphic  account 
of  the  first  election  in  California.  The  rough,  *f*sin- 


BIRTH   OF   A   STATE.  125 

tegrated,  and  shifting  communities  of  that  new  land 
had  for  a  year  and  a  half  depended  for  law  and  order 
upon  the  innate  respect  for  the  rights  of  others  to  be 
found  in  the  hearts  of  a  majority  of  civilized  men. 
Beyond  this  there  were  organized  in  some  of  the  min 
ing  towns  a  vigilance  committee,  and  in  a  few  others  a 
judge  with  almost  supreme  power  was  elected  by  a 
vote  of  the  people.  These  officials  administered  jus 
tice  by  common  consent,  having  no  commission  or  au 
thority  from  the  National  Government.  The  enormous 
crowds  of  immigrants  which  filled  towns  and  cities  in 
a  single  month  made  the  necessity  for  some  form  of 
State  or  Territorial  government  apparent  to  the  least 
thoughtful.  So  a  few  of  the  more  enterprising  indi 
viduals,  advised  and  assisted  by  the  military  authorities, 
undertook  to  bring  order  out  of  chaos  by  calling  upon 
the  people  to  elect  delegates  to  a  Constitutional  Conven 
tion.  The  readiness  and  systematic  manner  in  which 
the  people  of  that  whole  region  responded  to  the  call, 
was  one  of  the  most  remarkable  as  well  as  one  of  the 
most  instructive  popular  movements  to  be  found  in 
the  annals  of  freedom.  The  meeting  of  that  Constitu 
tional  Convention  at  Monterey ;  the  rude  accommoda 
tions,  the  ability  of  the  body,  the  harmony  of  their  de 
liberations,  and  the  wisdom  of  their  regulations  and 
provisions,  was  the  subject  of  many  most  enthusiastic 
epistles  from  the  pen  of  Mr.  Taylor.  In  his  celebrated 
book,  now  so  much  prized  by  the  people  of  California, 
and  by  students  of  American  history,  he  gives  man}1 


126  LIFE    OF   BAYARD   TAYLOR. 

little  details  and  incidents  which  are  left  out  of  other 
books  and  so  often  overlooked  by  authors  and  corre 
spondents,  but  which  are  of  inestimable  importance  in 
gaining  an  accurate  knowledge  of  the  inside  social  and 
political  beginnings  of  that  powerful  State.  He  de 
scribed  the  appearance  of  the  building  in  which  the 
Convention  met,  gives  sketches  of  the  prominent  actors 
in  the  assembly,  and,  as  if  foreseeing  how  posterity 
would  like  to  preserve  the  memory  of  that  great  day, 
he  gives  the  complexion,  color  of  the  hair,  stature,  and 
dress  of  the  noted  men  who  held  seats.  It  is  as  excit 
ing  as  one  of  Scott's  novels  to  read  of  the  emotion, 
the  tears,  among  those  legislators  when  the  new  State 
was  born,  and  when  the  "  thirty-first "  gun  was  fired 
from  the  fort  to  announce  the  completion  of  the  great 
event.  Thus,  from  the  consent  of  the  governed  in  its 
most  literal  sense,  the  officers  of  the  State  of  California 
derived  their  just  powers.  And  without  discord,  re 
bellious  or  seditious  conspiracies,  a  new  government 
took  its  place  among  the  empires  of  the  world.  The 
description  of  that  event  in  his  simple,  straightforward 
way  was  one  of  Mr.  Taylor's  best  deeds. 

Yet  every  incident  and  scene  had  its  poetic  side  to 
him,  and,  while  that  phase  of  his  nature  did  not  lead 
him  to  exaggeration  in  prose,  it  often  led  him  to  break 
into  independent  poetic  effusions.  He  appears  to 
have  long  looked  upon  the  Pacific  coast  as  a  field  of 
poetry  and  song,  for,  before  he  had  any  idea  of  visit 
ing  the  country,  he  wrote  several  poems,  and  located 


POETRY   OF   TRAVEL.  127 


them  there.  "The  Fight  of  Paso  del  Mar"  was  one 
of  those  early  poems,  and  the  scene  was  the  cliff  at 
the  entrance  to  the  harbor  at  Santa  Barbara. 

"  Gusty  and  raw  was  the  morning, 
A.  fog  hung  over  the  seas, 
And  its  gray  skirts,  rolling  inland, 
Were  torn  by  the  mountain  trees ; 
No  sound  was  heard  but  the  dashing 
Of  waves  on  the  sandy  bar, 
When  Pablo  of  San  Diego 
Kode  down  to  the  Paso  del  Mar. 

The  pescaddr,  out  in  his  shallop, 

Gathering  his  harvest  so  wide, 

Sees  the  dim  bulk  of  the  headland 

Loom  over  the  waste  of  the  tide ; 

He  sees,  like  a  white  thread,  the  pathway 

Wind  round  on  the  terrible  wall, 

Where  the  faint,  moving  speck  of  the  rider 

Seems  hovering  close  to  its  fall." 

Most  sweetly  sang  he  of  the  climate,  and  the  pro 
lific  gifts  of  nature  in  California,  and  one  verse  of  his 
"  Manuela  "  contains  a  very  vivid  and  accurate  picture 
of  some  of  California,  as  seen  by  many  travellers. 

"  All  the  air  is  full  of  music,  for  the  winter  rains  are  o'er, 
And  the  noisy  magpies  chatter  from  the  budding  sycamore ; 
Blithely  frisk  unnumbered  squirrels,  over  all  the  grassy  slope ; 
Where  the  airy  summits  brighten,  nimbly  leaps  the  antelope." 

In  a  prophetic  strain,  which  has  been  so  often 
quoted  in  that  land  where 

"  The  seaward  winds  are  wailing  through  Santa  Barbara's  pinee, 
And  like  a  sheatless  sabre,  the  far  Pacific  shines," 


128  LIFE    OF   BAYARD   TAYLOR. 

he  foretold,  in  "  The  Pine  Forest  of  Monterey,"  what 
has  already  happened  in  that  magic  land  of  sunshine, 
gold,  and  miraculous  progress. 

"  Stately  Pines, 

But  few  more  years  around  the  promontory 
Your  chant  will  meet  the  thunders  of  the  sea. 
No  more,  a  barrier  to  the  encroaching  sand 
Against  the  surf  ye  '11  stretch  defiant  arm, 
Though  with  its  onset  and  besieging  shock 
Your  firm  knees  tremble.    Never  more  the  wind 
Shall  pipe  shrill  music  through  your  mossy  beards, 
Nor  sunset's  yellow  blaze  athwart  your  heads 
Crown  all  the  hills  with  gold.    Your  race  is  past : 
The  mystic  cycle,  whose  unnoted  birth 
Coeval  was  with  yours,  has  run  its  sands, 
And  other  footsteps  from  these  changing  shores 
Frighten  its  haunting  Spirit.    Men  will  come 
To  vex  your  quiet  with  the  din  of  toil ; 
The  smoky  volumes  of  the  forge  will  stain 
This  pure,  sweet  air;  loud  keels  will  ride  the  sea, 
Dashing  its  glittering  sapphire  into  foam  ; 
Through  all  her  green  canadas  Spring  will  seek 
Her  lavish  blooms  in  vain,  and  clasping  ye, 
O,  mournful  Pines,  within  her  glowing  arms, 
Will  weep  soft  rains  to  find  ye  fallen  low." 

He  portrayed  his  California  experiences  in  rhyme, 
when  he  sang  of  "The  Summer  Camp,"  and  we  quote 
a  few  lines  of  it,  so  appropriate  to  his  departure  from 
£an  Francisco. 

"  No  more  of  travel,  where  the  flaming  sword 
Of  the  great  sun  divides  the  heavens  ;  no  more 
Of  climbing  over  jutty  steeps  that  swim 


WONDERFUL    CHANGES.  129 

In  driving  sea-inists,  where  the  stunted  tree 
Slants  inland,  mimicking  the  stress  of  winds 
When  wind  is  none ;  of  plain  and  steaming  marsh, 
Where  the  dry  bulrush  crackles  in  the  heat  j 
Of  camps  by  starlight  in  the  columned  vault 
Of  sycamores,  and  the  red,  dancing  fires 
That  build  a  leafy  arch,  eiface  and  build, 
And  sink  at  last,  to  let  the  stars  peep  through  ; 
Of  canons  grown  with  pine,  and  folded  deep 
In  golden  mountain-sides ;  of  airy  sweeps 
Of  mighty  landscape,  lying  all  alone 
Like  some  deserted  world." 

He  mentioned  the  deep  impression  of  ceaseless 
progress  which  the  change  of  a  few  weeks  had  made 
in  the  growth  of  San  Francisco.  When  he  re-entered 
it,  after  his  short  stay  in  the  mountains,  he  could  not 
recognize  the  streets,  while  the  inhabitants  and  their 
manners  had  undergone  a  change  still  more  astonish 
ing.  Where  there  were  tents  a  few  days  before,  now 
were  large  buildings  of  wood,  while  the  log-cabins  and 
Chinese  houses  had,  in  many  places,  given  place  to 
structures  of  brick  and  stone.  Wharves  had  been 
built,  streets  regularly  laid  out,  banks  opened,  whole 
sale  stores  established,  lines  of  steamers  running  to 
the  various  ports  along  the  coast,  and  up  the  rivers ; 
while  the  rude,  dirty,  careless,  rushing  multitude 
had  assumed  a  cleanliness  and  a  gravity,  unequal  of 
course  to  that  of  an  Eastern  city,  but  astonishingly  in 
advance  of  the  previous  wildness.  Law  offices,  brokers' 
boards,  smelting  establishments,  barber-shops,  hotels, 
bakeries,  laundries,  and  news-stands  had  all  been  estab- 
9 


130  LIFE   OF   BAYARD   TAYLOR. 

lished  in  a  confusingly  short  space  of  time.  The  place 
he  found  as  a  frontier  camp,  he  found  four  months  later 
a  swarming  yet  civilized  city,  with  all  the  officials,  and 
some  of  the  red  tape  which  characterize  older  corpora 
tions.  But  San  Francisco  was  not  alone  in  its 
growth;  for  Sacramento,  San  Jos6,  Monterey,  and 
many  other  towns  and  cities,  had  been  as  nothing,  less 
than  a  year  before.  At  the  time  he  left  San  Fran 
cisco,  they  were  populous  cities  and  villages,  teeming 
with  a  resistless,  sleepless  activity.  To  accurately 
record  such  a  change,  to  give  an  anxious  public  cor 
rect  information  regarding  that  wonderland,  and  the 
fortune  of  their  friends,  and  to  bear  a  share  in  the 
work  of  establishing  such  a  State,  was  the  task  of 
Mr.  Taylor,  and  most  creditably  did  he  perform  his 
part. 

On  leaving  California,  about  the  first  of  January, 
1850,  he  decided  to  go  down  the  coast  to  Mazatlan 
and  thence  overland  through  Mexico.  lie  came  to  that 
conclusion  after  long  consultations  with  his  friends, 
none  of  whom  could  or  dared  accompany  him,  while 
all  told  him  of  robbers,  deserts,  impassable  streams, 
and  dangerous  wild  beasts  which  awaited  all  travellers 
in  that  benighted  and  trackless  country.  Mr.  Taylor 
*vould  have  enjoyed  some  thrilling  adventures ;  and 
the  fears  of  his  advisers  only  made  him  more  decided 
in  his  determination  to  go.  So,  alone,  and  with  but 
slight  knowledge  of  the  Spanish  language,  he  disem 
barked  at  Mazatlan  on  the  Mexican  coast,  near  the 


AMONG    THIEVES.  131 

mouth  of  the  Gulf  of  California,  and  with  a  pair  of 
pistols  and  a  dwarfed  mule,  started  into  the  unknown 
wilds  of  that  tropical  land. 

His  hardships  were  many,  and  his  fatigue  at  times 
almost  unbearable ;  but  his  love  for  things  new  and 
strange,  for  the  unexplored  and  unknown,  kept  him 
moving  perseveringly  on  through  the  thickets  and  ra 
vines  of  upper  Mexico.  By  great  skill  and  consider 
able  assurance  he  managed  to  keep  in  the  good  graces 
of  the  people  he  met,  and  for  several  days,  in  the  forests 
and  in  the  villages,  he  met  with  very  kind  and  hospita 
ble  treatment. 

On  one  occasion,  however,  he  fell  among  thieves. 
Before  he  arrived  at  the  city  of  Mexico,  and  while  still 
in  the  wilderness  of  the  interior  of  the  Mexican  high 
lands,  he  was  suddenly  attacked  by  three  Mexican  rob 
bers,  to  whose  marauding  purposes  he  could  make  no 
resistance,  he  having  placed  such  reliance  upon  the 
good  faith  of  the  natives  as  to  carry  his  pistol  without 
a  cartridge  in  it.  The  banditti  made  him  dismount  and 
hand  over  what  little  money  in  coin  he  happened  to 
have ,  and  after  taking  such  blankets  and  trinkets  as 
they  desired,  left  him  with  his  hands  tied  behind  him, 
to  get  on  as  best  he  could.  Fortunately  they  did  not 
want  his  horse,  which  he  had  bought  in  place  of  the 
useless  mule,  and  after  extricating  himself  from  his 
bonds  by  long  struggles,  he  mounted  his  horse  and 
rode  on  to  Mexico  with  his  drafts  for  money  all  intact. 
He  seems  to  have  placed  less  reliance  on  th«  Mexicans, 


132  LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

after  that  encounter,  and  took  good  care  to  ride  out  of 
range  of  their  muskets  and  to  keep  himself  supplied 
with  ammunition. 

His  visit  to  the  Mexican  capital  was  an  occasion  of 
great  interest  to  him,  and  brought  up  freshly  and  viv 
idly  the  story  which  Prescott  has  so  well  told  of  the 
Aztecs  and  the  heroic  age  of  Cortez.  No  scene  in  Europe 
is  said  to  combine  such  extremes  of  sweetness  and 
grandeur,  of  light  and  shade,  of  valley  and  hill,  of  plain 
and  cragged  highland,  of  land  and  water,  of  art  and 
nature,  as  the  valley  of  Mexico.  There  he  saw  the 
evidences  of  prehistoric  civilization,  and  looked  with 
curiosity  and  awe  upon  the  towering  fortress  of  Cha- 
pultepec,  which  connects  the  present  with  the  ages 
past.  However,  Mr.  Taylor  could  not  stop  long  in 
that  charming  vale,  and  hastened  on  over  the  battle 
fields  of  Scott  to  Vera  Cruz.  From  Yera  Cruz  he 
went  by  steamer  to  Mobile,  from  thence  overland  to 
Charleston,  S.  C.,  and  by  way  of  North  Carolina, 
Virginia,  and  Washington,  to  New  York,  where, 
about  the  middle  of  March,  he  resume  his  duties  as 
editor  of  the  "  Tribune  "  with  the  thought  that  there 
he  might  stay  the  remainder  of  his  life. 


FIRST   LOVE.  133 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

The  Poet's  First  Love.  —  Playmates.  —  Miss  Mary  S.  Agnew.  —  His 
Fidelity.  —  Poems  Inspired  by  Affection.  —  Her  Failing  Health. 

—  Consumption.  —  His  Return  to  Her. — The  Marriage  at  the 
Death-bed.  — Her  Death.  — The  Poet's  Grief.  — His  Inner  Life. 

—  The  Story  injiis  own  Rhyme. 

WE  now  enter  upon  the  most  holy  ground  ever 
trod  by  the  biographer,  —  the  sacred  recesses  of  the 
human  heart.  In  the  annals  of  ordinary  life,  or  even 
in  those  of  many  great  men,  the  record  of  their 
early  love  may  not  be  important  to  the  reader.  But 
to  the  poet,  these  more  subtle  and  more  tender  emo 
tions  are  events  of  the  greatest  importance.  Every 
heart  contains  more  or  less  of  the  poetical  sentiment, 
and  the  love  and  marriage  of  any  individual  is  a 
matter  of  great  moment  to  him,  although  it  may  not 
be  to  his  biographer.  But  here  we  write  of  a  poet. 
To  him,  all  the  strings  of  human  feeling  had  a  clear 
and  unmistakable  sound.  To  him,  the  undertones  ot 
life  played  an  important  part  in  the  harmony  of  his 
being.  All  that  was  pure  and  sweet  in  love  he  saw. 
All  that  was  beautiful  and  lovable  in  life  he  felt,  with 
a  keenness  none  but  the  poet  can  know.  Hence  to 
him,  we  find,  as  in  the  history  of  the  grand  poets  of 
ancient  days,  his  love  was  a  holy  sentiment,  to  be 


134  LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

valued  as  God's  best  gift,  and  to  be  worshipped  as  a 
part  of  Him. 

In  a  neighboring  farm-house,  but  a  short  distance 
from  his  father's  farm,  lived  Mary  S.  Agnew.  She  was 
born  and  reared  in  the  same  community,  went  to  the 
same  school,  attended  the  same  church,  and  was  a 
playmate,  classmate,  and  trusted  companion.  They 
sought  each  other  in  childhood's  days,  and  their 
friendship  ripened  into  love  as  imperceptibly  and 
surely  as  the  coming  and  going  of  the  years  developed 
their  lives,  and  pressed  them  forward  into  manhood  and 
womanhood.  Her  dark  hair  and  eyes,  her  slender 
form,  her  lovable  disposition,  her  conscientiousness  and 
purity  were  presented  to  him  in  that  strong  light, 
under  which  all  lovers  see  the  merits  and  virtues  of 
their  sweethearts.  Added  to  that  was  the  romance 
and  insight  of  that  other  sense  which  poets  are  said  tc 
possess.  He  built  a  shrine  to  this  idol  wherever  he 
went,  and  through  all  his  early  years  she  was,  as  he 
said  in  verse,  the  representative  to  him  of  the  good 
ness  of  God.  On  the  farm,  he  made  verses  in  her 
honor  ;  at  the  Quaker  meeting  he  was  thankful  for  her  ; 
at  the  parties  and  social  gatherings  among  the  young 
folks,  she  was  the  centre  of  his  thought.  Not  fool 
ishly  or  blindly  did  he  exhibit  his  affection.  Not 
extravagantly  or  obtrusively  did  he  follow  his  wooing. 
But  his  poetry  and  his  prose  give  here  and  there  a  clew  to 
the  deep  and  fervent  love  of  his  youthful  days.  Some 
of  his  very  sweetest  poetry  found  its  inspiration  in 


F  AITHFTILNES3 .  135 

that  love,  and  when  the  volume  is  published,  if  ever 
it  is,  in  which  shall  appear  those  sonnets,  which 
have  modestly  been  kept  thus  far  from  the  public 
gaze,  there  will  be  found  gems  that  the  world  cannot 
well  spare.  How  sincere,  disinterested,  and  noble 
was  his  affection,  was  proved  by  his  faithful  and 
unabated  love,  after  he  had  seen  the  world  and  its 
loveliest  ladies,  and  after  the  cruel  hand  of  disease  had 
chiselled  away  the  round  and  rosy  cheeks,  and  left,  in 
place  of  the  sparkling,  blushing  maiden  of  his  early 
love,  a  pallid  spectre — a  shadow  of  her  former  self. 
In  all  his  wanderings,  he  never  neglected  her.  In  all 
his  most  tender  writings,  her  image  is  more  or  less 
clear.  In  one  of  his  volumes,  "  The  Poet's  Journal," 
he  gives  a  history  of  his  love  and  sorrow ;  of  the 
awakening,  after  years  of  death,  in  the  sweetest  and 
most  touching  of  all  his  poems. 

He  allowed  some  of  his  earlier  verses  to  see  the 
light  of  print,  wherein  he  makes  mention,  indirectly, 
of  Mary  S.  Agnew.  When  travelling  along  the  Dan 
ube,  in  1845,  he  thus  writes  :  — 

"  Old  playmates !  bid  me  welcome 

Amid  your  brother-band  ; 
Give  me  the  old  affection, — 

The  glowing  grasp  of  hand ! 
I  seek  no  more  the  realms  of  old, — 

Here  is  my  Fatherland. 

Come  hither,  gentle  maiden, 
Who  weep  'st  in  tender  joy  I 


136  LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

The  rapture  of  thy  presence 

Repays  the  world's  annoy, 
And  calms  the  wild  and  ardent  heart 

Which  warms  the  wandering  boy. 

In  many  a  mountain  fastness, 

By  many  a  river's  foam, 
And  through  the  gorgeous  cities, 

'  Twas  loneliness  to  roam  ; 
For  the  sweetest  music  in  my  heart 

Was  the  olden  songs  of  home." 

When  in  Florence,  in  1846,  he  wrote  a  poem 
entitled  "In  Italy,"  wherein  were  the  following  ex 
pressive  lines  :  — 

"  Rich  is  the  soil  with  Fancy's  gold ; 
The  stirring  memories  of  old 
Rise  thronging  in  my  hannted  vision, 
And  wake  my  spirit's  young  ambition. 

But  as  the  radiant  sunsets  close 
Above  Val  d'Arno's  bowers  of  rose, 
My  soul  forgets  the  olden  glory, 
And  deems  our  love  a  dearer  story. 

Thy  words,  in  Memory's  ear,  outchime 
The  music  of  the  Tuscan  rhyme  ; 
Thou  standest  here  —  the  gentle-hearted  — 
Amid  the  shades  of  bards  departed. 

I  see  before  thee  fade  away 

Their  garlands  of  immortal  bay, 

And  turn  from  Petrarch's  passion-glances 

To  my  own  dearer  heart-romances." 

"  A  single  thought  of  thee  effaced 
The  fair  Italian  dream  I  chased ; 
For  the  true  clime  of  song  and  sun 
Liee  in  the  heart  which  mine  hath  won." 


POETRY   OF   LOVE.  137 

When  he  reached  London  in  1846,  after  his  long 
pilgrimage,  and  when  so  reduced  in  funds  and  friends, 
he  yet  had  the  time  and  mind  to  write  of  her  these 
graceful  rhymes  : — 

"  I  Ve  wandered  through  the  golden  lands 
Where  art  and  beauty  blended  shine — 

Where  features  limned  by  painters'  hands 
Beam  from  the  canvas  made  divine, 

And  many  a  god  in  marble  stands, 
With  soul  in  every  breathing  line ; 

And  forms  the  world  has  treasured  long 

Within  me  touched  the  world  of  song." 

"  Yet  brighter  than  those  radiant  dreams 
Which  won  renown  that  never  dies  — 

Where  more  than  mortal  beauty  beams 
In  sybil's  lips,  and  angel's  eyes  — 

One  image,  like  the  moonlight,  seems 
Between  them  and  my  heart  to  rise, 

And  in  its  brighter,  dearer  ray, 

The  stars  of  Genius  fade  away." 

It  is  an  interesting  study  and  one  not  altogethei 
unprofitable,  to  follow,  through  an  author's  works  the 
marks  of  his  peculiar  likes,  joys,  and  sorrows.  For 
in  science,  philosophy,  history  or  poetry,  the  feelings 
of  the  student  will  unguardedly  creep  into  his  manu 
scripts  as  if  between  the  lines,  and  often  a  little 
word,  or  a  thoughtlessly  inserted  sentence  or  comment, 
will  reveal  whole  chapters  of  a  life  which  has  been 
carefully,  scrupulously  hidden.  So  in  Bayard  Tay 
lor's  poetry,  written  on  sea  and  on  land,  at  home  and 
abroad,  in  poverty  and  in  affluence,  there  is  a  certain 


138  LIFE    OF   BAYARD    TAYLOR. 

vein  of  originality,  and  certain  references  to  his  own 
life,  which,  when  placed  together,  give  the  clew  to  his 
inner  life,  and  reveal  a  charming  domestic  scene,  which 
cannot  be  described  in  prose.  One  of  his  characters 
in  "  The  Poet's  Journal,"  says  :  — 

"  Dear  Friend,  one  volume  of  your  life  I  read 

Beneath  these  vines  :  you  placed  it  in  my  hand 

And  made  it  mine,  —  "but  how  the  tale  has  sped 
Since  then,  I  know  not,  or  can  understand 

From  this  fair  ending  only.    Let  me  see 
The  intervening  chapters,  dark  and  bright, 

In  order,  as  you  lived  them." 

To  which  another  makes  reply  in  the  words  below, 
whicE  so  delicately  and  feelingly  refer  to  his  early 
love,  his  sorrow  at  the  death  of  Mary,  his  first  wife, 
and  the  brightness  of  the  later  affection.  To  one  who 
has  passed  through  the  same  trying  experience,  these 
lines  are  marvellously  expressive  :  — 

"  What  haps  I  met,  what  struggles,  what  success 
Of  fame,  or  gold,  or  place,  concerns  you  less, 
Dear  friend,  than  how  I  lost  that  sorest  load 
I  started  with,  and  came  to  dwell  at  last 
In  the  House  Beautiful." 

"  You,  who  would  write  '  Resurgam '  o  'er  my  dead, 
The  resurrection  of  my  heart  shall  know." 

"For  pain,  that  only  lives  in  memory, 
Like  battle-scars,  it  is  no  pain  to  show." 

Then  he  goes  on  to  recite  a  tale  so  like  his  own,  that 
it  needs  scarce  any  change,  but  to  substitute  the  names 


ILLNESS    OF   MISS   AGNEW.  139 

of  himself,  and  those  he  loved,  for  the  fictitious  names 
we  find  in  the  poems.  But,  before  making  farther 
quotation,  the  reader  should  be  made  acquainted  with 
the  circumstances  which  prompted  those  illuminated 
lines. 

While  Mr.  Taylor  was  away,  Miss  Agnew  gradually 
and  surely  declined  in  health,  until  consumption, 
with  all  its  terrible  certainty  and  serpent-like  stealth, 
made  her  its  victim.  It  was  one  of  those  unaccountable 
visitations  which  sometimes  come  to  the  young  and 
beautiful  in  the  midst  of  joy  and  perfect  content.  How 
sadly  the  news  of  her  sickness  fell  upon  the  heart  of 
her  lover,  and  how  tenderly  and  anxiously  he  prayed 
and  waited  for  letters  from  her,  which  should  contain 
better  tidings,  he  has  himself  related.  Pale  and  weak, 
she  greeted  him  on  his  return  from  California,  with  the 
prediction  that  she  could  not  live  beyond  the  falling 
leaves.  No  skill,  no  tender  nursing,  no  charm  of  an 
abiding  love,  could  stay  the  hand  of  death,  which,  as 
unseen  and  secret  as  the  decay  in  a  rose,  gradually 
stole  away  her  color,  her  beauty,  and  her  life. 

He  felt  that  he  must  lose  her ;  and  the  whole  world, 
which  had  before  appeared  so  bright,  became  dark  and 
chilly.  The  test  showed  that  while  his  ambition  led 
him  to  see  the  great  nations  of  the  earth,  to  write 
poems  for  posterity,  and  to  write  his  name  in  italics 
on  the  scrolls  of  fame,  there  was  one  solace,  one  com 
fort,  one  desire,  which  included  all  the  others  tind  made 
them  subservient.  He  was  true  to  his  plighted  word> 


140  LIFE    OF   BAYARD   TAYLOR. 

Ho  had  become  noted  and  prosperous,  while  she  had 
remained  at  the  country  farm-house  in  Kennett.  He 
was  the  associate  of  Bryant,  Greeley,  Webster,  and 
Willis  ;  she,  the  companion  of  the  farmers  and  Quakers 
of  Chester  County.  But  strong,  manly,  and  honest, 
his  love  knew  no  abatement  and  his  respect  felt  no 
check. 

It  is  a  touching  picture  —  that  simple,  solemn  mar 
riage  in  the  room  of  the  patient,  an  almost  helpless  in 
valid  !  He  came  to  redeem  his  pledge ;  and  in  that 
simple  abode,  with  death  standing  just  outside  the 
door,  with  a  bride  scarce  able  to  whisper  that  she  took 
him  for  her  lawful  spouse,  he  became  a  husband. 
The  dim,  appealing  eyes,  the  tender  little  flush  in  her 
cheek,  the  tremor  of  her  thin  hand,  told  the  joy  in  her 
pure  heart,  but  showed  also  that  her  happiness  would 
be  as  brief  as  it  was  sincere. 

The  marriage  took  place  Oct.  24th,  1850,  and  on  the 
21st  of  the  following  December  his  wife  died.  She 
lingered  much  longer  than  her  friends  expected.  At 
the  marriage  it  was  said  that  she  could  not  live  but  a 
very  few  days.  Yet,  so  soon  was  it  after  their  union, 
that  the  day  which  is  usually  the  happiest  and  the  day 
which  is  usually  the  gloomiest  in  a  man's  lift;,  came 
to  him  within  ten  weeks  of  each  other.  A  year  after 
her  death,  he  wrote  a  poem,  "Winter  Solstice,"  in 
which  he  mentions  his  bereavement : — 

"  —  For  when  tbe  gray  autumnal  gale 
Came  to  despoil  the  dying  year, 


EXPRESSIONS   OF   GRIEF.  141 

Passed  with  the  slow  retreating  sun, 
As  day  by  day  some  beams  depart, 
The  beauty  and  the  life  of  one, 
Whose  love  made  Summer  in  my  heart. 

Day  after  day,  the  latest  flower, 

Her  faded  being  waned  away, 

More  pale  and  dim  with  every  hour,  — 

And  ceased  upon  the  darkest  day ! 

The  warmth  and  glow  that  with  her  died 

No  light  of  coming  suns  shall  bring  j 

The  heart  its  wintry  gloom  may  hide, 

But  cannot  feel  a  second  Spring. 

O  darkest  day  of  all  the  year ! 

In  vain  thou  com'st  with  balmy  skies, 

For,  blotting  out  their  azure  sphere, 

The  phantoms  of  my  Fate  arise : 

A  blighted  life,  whose  shattered  plan 

No  after  fortune  can  restore ; 

The  perfect  lot,  designed  for  Man, 

That  should  be  mine,  but  is  no  more." 

Still  later,  he  gave  expression  to  his  loneliness  in 
that  most  pathetic  of  all  his  writings,  "The  Phantom." 

"  Again  I  sit  within  the  mansion, 

In  the  old,  familiar  seat ; 
And  shade  and  sunshine  chase  each  other 
O  'er  the  cappet  at  my  feet." 

"  And  many  kind,  remembered  faces 

Within  the  doorway  come,  — 
Voices,  that  wake  the  sweeter  music 
Of  one  that  now  is  dumb. 

They  sing,  in  tones  as  glad  as  ever, 

The  songs  she  loved  to  hear ; 
They  braid  the  rose  in  summer  garlands, 

Whose  flowers  to  her  were  dear 


142  LFFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

And  still,  her  footsteps  in  the  passage, 

Her  bl'ishes  at  the  door, 
Her  timid  words  of  maiden  welcome, 

Come  back  to  me  once  more." 

"  She  stays  without,  perchance,  a  moment, 

To  dress  her  dark-brown  hair  ; 
I  hear  the  rustle  of  her  garments, — 
Her  light  step  on  the  stair ! " 

"  She  tarries  long :  but  lo !  a  whisper 

Beyond  the  open  door, 
And,  gliding  through  the  quiet  sunshine. 
A  shadow  on  the  floor ! " 

"  But  my  heart  grows  sick  with  weary  waiting 

As  many  a  time  before  : 
Her  foot  is  ever  at  the  threshold, 
Yet  never  passes  o'er." 

In  his  "Picture  of  St.  John"  he  describes,  with  a 
feeling  born  of  experience,  a  scene  like  the  closing 
one  in  the  life  of  his  wife. 

"  Day  by  day 

Her  cheeks  grew  thin,  her  footstep  faint  and  slow ; 
And  yet  so  fondly,  with  such  hopeful  play 
Her  pulses  beat,  they  masked  the  coming  woe. 
Joy  dwelt  with  her,  and  in  her  eager  breath 
His  cymbals  drowned  the  hollow  drums  of  death  ; 
Life  showered  its  promise,  surer  to  betray, 
And  the  false  Future  crumbled  fast  away. 

Aye,  she  was  happy !  God  be  thanked  for  this, 
That  she  was  happy !  —  happier  than  she  knew, 


A    TALE    OF   SORROW.  143 

Had  even  the  hope  that  cheated  her  been  true ; 
For  from  her  face  there  beamed  such  wondrous  bliss, 
As  cannot  find  fulfilment  here,  and  dies." 

Nearer  the  end  of  the  same  poem,  he  writes  :  — 

"  With  cold  and  changeless  face  beside  her  grave 
I  stood,  and  coldly  heard  the  shuddering  sound 
Of  coffin-echoes,  smothered  underground." 

And  still  later  he  says,  as  only  he  can  say  who  has  fell 
it:  — 

"  My  body  moved  in  its  mechanic  course 
Of  soulless  function  :  thought  and  passion  ceased, 
Or  blindly  stirred  with  undirected  force, — 
A  weary  trance  which  only  Time  decreased 
By  slow  reductions." 

A  sonnet  of  that  dark  hour,  written  on  a  leaf  of 
his  diary,  remains  to  us,  from  which  we  quote  two 
verses :  — 

"  Moan,  ye  wild  winds !  around  the  pane, 
And  fall,  thou  drear  December  rain  ! 
Fill  with  your  gusts  the  sullen  day, 
Tear  the  last  clinging  leaves  away ! 
Reckless  as  yonder  naked  tree, 
No  blast  of  yours  can  trouble  me." 

"  Moan  on,  ye  winds !  and  pour,  thou  rain ! 
Your  stormy  sobs  and  tears  are  vain, 
If  shed  for  her  whose  fading  eyes, 
Will  open  soon  on  Paradise ; 
The  eye  of  Heaven  shall  blinded  be, 
Or  ere  ye  cease,  if  shed  for  me." 


144  LITE    OF   BAYARD    TAYLOR. 

Here  is  another  sad,  sad  wail,  to  be  found  in  his 
'f  A  atumnal  Vespers  "  :  — 

4  The  light  is  dying  out  o  'er  all  the  land, 
And  in  my  heart  the  light  is  dying.    She, 
My  life's  best  life,  is  fading  silently 
From  Earth,  from  me,  and  from  the  dreams  we  planned, 
Since  first  Love  led  us  with  his  beaming  hand 

From  hope  to  hope,  yet  kept  his  crown  in  store. 
The  light  is  dying  out  o  'er  all  the  land  : 
To  me  it  comes  no  more. 

The  blossom  of  my  heart,  she  shrinks  away 

Stricken  \vith  deadly  blight :  more  wan  and  weak 
Her  love  replies  in  blanching  lip  and  cheek, 

And  gentler  in  her  dear  eyes,  day  by  day. 

God,  in  Thy  mercy,  bid  the  arm  delay, 
Which  thro'  her  being  smites  to  dust  my  own  ! 

Thou  gav'st  the  seed  Thy  sun  and  showers ;  why  slay 
The  blossoms  yet  unblown  T 

In  vain,  —  in  vain  !  God  will  not  bid  the  Spring 
Ueplace  with  sudden  green  the  Autumn's  gold ; 
And  as  the  night-mists,  gathering  damp  and  cold, 

Strike  up  the  vales  where  water-courses  sing, 

Death's  mist  shall  strike  along  her  veins,  and  cling 
Thenceforth  forever  round  her  glorious  frame  : 

For  all  her  radiant  presence,  May  shall  bring 
A  memory  and  a  name." 

Again,  in  "  The  Two  Visions,"  was  the  low  moan  of 
a  poet's  stricken  heart. 

"  Through  days  of  toil,  through  nightly  fears, 
A  vision  blessed  my  heart  for  years  ; 
And  so  secure  its  features  grew, 
My  heart  believed  the  blessing  true. 


TELLS    HIS   OWN   STORY.  145 

I  saw  her  there,  a  household  dove, 
In  consummated  peace  of  love, 
And  sweeter  joy  and  saintlier  grace 
Breathed  o  'er  the  beauty  of  her  face." 

"  That  vision  died,  in  drops  of  woe, 
In  blotting  drops,  dissolving  slow : 
Now,  toiling  day  and  sorrowing  night, 
Another  vision  fills  my  sight. 
A  cold  mound  in  the  winter  snow ; 
A  colder  heart  at  rest  below  ; 
A  life  in  utter  loneness  hurled, 
And  darkness  over  all  the  world." 

How  accurately  he  portrayed  his  inner  life,  from 
the  death  of  Mary  to  his  subsequent  marriage,  can 
only  be  understood  by  reading  his  poem  of  "The 
Poet's  Journal"  entire.  But,  as  far  as  brief  quota 
tions  may  give  it,  we  will  try  to  supply  enough  for 
the  purposes  of  a  book  such  as  this  is  intended  to 
be.  In  his  despair  he  writes  :  — 

.    "  And  every  gift  that  Life  to  me  had  given 

Lies  at  my  feet,  in  useless  fragments  trod  : 
There  is  no  justice  or  in  Earth  or  Heaven  : 
There  is  no  pity  in  the  heart  of  God." 

"  I  pine  for  something  human, 

Man,  woman,  young  or  old  — 

Something  to  meet  and  welcome, 

Something  to  clasp  and  hold. 

I  have  a  mouth  for  kisses, 
But  there 's  no  one  to  give  and  take  j 

I  have  a  heart  in  my  bosom 
Beating  for  nobody's  sake." 

10 


146  LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

"The  sea  might  rise  and  drown  me, — 
Cliffs  fall  and  crush  my  head,  — 

-  Were  there  one  to  love  me,  living, 
Or  weep  to  see  me  dead  ! n 


"  Last  night  fihe  Tempter  came  to  me,  and  said  : 

'  Why  sorrow  any  longer  for  the  dead  ? 
The  wrong  is  done  :  thy  tears  and  groans  are  naught ; 
Forget  the  Past,  —  thy  pain  but  lives  in  thought. 
Night  after  night,  I  hear  thy  cries  implore 
An  answer :  she  will  answer  thee  no  more. 
Give  up  thine  idle  prayer  that  Death  may  come 
And  thou  mayst  somewhere  find  her  :  Death  is  dumb 
To  those  that  seek  him.    Live  :  for  youth  is  thine. 
Let  not  thy  rich  blood,  like  neglected  wine, 
Grow  thin  and  stale,  but  rouse  thyself,  at  last, 
And  take  a  man's  revenge  upon  the  Past.' " 


"  This  heart  is  flesh,  I  cannot  make  it  stone : 
This  blood  is  hot,  I  cannot  stop  its  flow, 
These  arms  are  vacant  —  whereso  'er  I  go, 
Love  lies  in  other's  arms  and  shuns  my  own." 

"  Long,  long  ago,  the  Hand  whereat  I  railed 
In  blindness  gave  mo  courage  to  subdue 
This  wild  revolt :  I  see  wherein  I  failed  : 
My  heart  was  false,  when  most  I  thought  it  true; 
My  sorrow  selfish,  when  I  thought  it  pure. 
For  those  we  lose,  if  still  their  love  endure 
Translation  tc  that  other  land,  where  Love 
Breathes  the  immortal  wisdom,  ask  in  heaven 
No  greater  sacrifice  than  we  had  given 
On  earth,  our  love's  integrity  to  prove. 
If  we  are  blest  to  know  the  other  blest, 
Then  treason  lies  in  sorrow." 


"  I  had  knelt,  in  the  awful  Presence, 
And  covered  my  guilty  head, 


HIS    POEMS.  147 

Aud  received  His  absolution, 
For  my  sins  toward  the  dead." 

"  Now  first  I  dare  remember 

That  day  of  death  and  woe  : 
Within,  the  dreadful  silence, 
Without,  the  sun  and  snow." 

"  When  wild  azaleas  deck  the  knoll, 

And  cinque-foil  stars  the  fields  of  home, 
And  winds,  that  take  the  white-weed,  roll 
The  meadows  into  foam : 

Then  from  the  jubilee  I  turn 

To  other  Mays  that  I  have  seen, 
Where  more  resplendent  blossoms  burn, 
And  statelier  woods  are  green ;  — 

Mays,  when  my  heart  expanded  first, 

A  honeyed  blossom,  fresh  with  dew  ; 
And  one  sweet  wind  of  heaven  dispersed 
The  only  clouds  I  knew. 

For  she,  whose  softly-murmured  name 

The  music  of  the  month  expressed, 
Walked  by  my  side,  in  holy  shame 
Of  girlish  love  confessed." 

"  The  old,  old  tale  of  girl  and  boy, 

Repeated  ever,  never  old : 
To  each  in  turn  the  gates  of  joy, 
The  gates  of  heaven  unfold." 

tf  So  I  think,  when  days  are  sweetest, 

And  the  world  is  wholly  fair, 
She  may  sometime  steal  upon  me 

Through  the  dimness  of  the  air, 
With  the  cross  upon  her  bosom 

And  the  amaranth  in  her  hair. 


148  LIFE    OF    BAYARD    TAYLOR. 

Once  to  meet  her,  all !  to  meet  her, 
And  to  hold  her  gently  fast 

Till  I  blessed  her,  till  she  blessed  me,  — 
That  were  happiness,  at  last : 

That  were  bliss  beyond  our  meetings 
In  the  autumns  of  the  Past ! " 

"  Still,  still  that  lovely  ghost  appears, 

Too  fair,  too  pure,  to  bid  depart ; 
No  riper  love  of  later  years 
Can  steal  its  beauty  from  the  heart. ' 

"  Dear,  boyish  heart  that  trembled  so 

With  bashful  fear  and  fond  unrest,  — 
More  frightened  than  a  dove,  to  know 
Another  bird  within  its  nest ! " 

"  Restored  and  comforted,  I  go 

To  grapple  with  my  tasks  again ; 
Through  silent  worship  taught  to  know 
The  blessed  peace  that  follows  pain." 


"  If  Love  should  come  again,  I  ask  my  heart 

In  tender  tremors,  not  unmixed  with  pain, 
Could&t  thou  be  calm,  nor  feel  thine  ancient  smart, 
If  Love  should  come  again  ? 

"  Couldst  thou  unbar  the  chambers  where  his  nest 

So  long  was  made,  and  made,  alas!  in  vain, 
Nor  with  embarrassed  welcome  chill  thy  guest, 
If  Love  should  come  again  ?  " 


"  Have  I  passed  through  Death's  unconscious  birth, 

In  a  dream  the  midnight  bare  f 
I  look  on  another  and  fairer  Earth : 
I  breathe  a  wondrous  air ! " 

"  Is  it  she  that  shines,  as  never  before, 

The  tremulous  hills  above,  — 
Or  the  heart  within  me,  awake  once  more 
To  the  dawning  light  of  love  T  " 


THE    STORY   IN    RHYME.  1  49 

"  Bathed  in  the  morning,  let  my  heart  surreudei 

The  doubts  that  darkness  gave, 
And  rise  to  meet  the  advancing  splendor  — 
O  Night !  no  more  thy  slave.  " 

"  One  thought  sits  brooding  in  my  bosom, 

As  broodeth  in  her  nest  the  dove  ; 
A  strange,  delicious  doubt  o'ercomes  me,  — 
But  is  it  love  f 

"  I  see  her,  hear  her,  daily,  nightly : 

My  secret  dreams  around  her  move, 
Still  nearer  drawn  in  sweet  attraction  ;  — 
Can  this  be  love  ?  " 

11 1  breathe  but  peace  when  she  is  near  me,  — 

A  peace  her  absence  takes  away : 
My  heart  commands  her  constant  presenoa  r 
Will  hers  obey?" 


*' '  Canst  thou  forgive  me,  Angel  mine, 

I  cried:  'that  Love  at  last  beguiled 
My  heart  to  build  a  second  shrine  T 
See,  still  I  kneel  and  weep  at  thine, 
But  I  am  human,  thou  divine ! ' 
Still  silently  she  smiled. 

"  '  Dost  undivided  worship  claim, 
To  keep  thine  altar  undefiled  f 
Or  must  I  bear  thy  tender  blame, 
And  in  thy  pardon  feel  my  shame, 
Whene'er  I  breathe  another  name  f » 
She  looked  at  me,  and  smiled." 

"  No  treason  in  my  love  I  see, 

For  treason  cannot  dwell  with  truth 
But  later  blossoms  crown  a  tree 
Too  deeply  set  to  die  in  youth. 


150  LIFE    OF    BAYARD    TAYLOR. 

The  blighted  promise  of  the  old 
In  this  new  love  is  reconciled  ; 

For,  when  my  heart  confessed  its  hold, 
The  lips  of  ancient  sorrow  smiled ! 

It  brightens  backward  through  the  Past 
And  gilds  the  gloomy  path  I  trod, 

And  forward,  till  it  fades  at  last 
In  light,  before  the  feet  of  God, 

Where  stands  the  saint,  whose  radiant  brow 
This  solace  beams,  while  I  adore : 

Be  happy  :  if  thou  lovedst  not  now, 
Thou  never  couldst  have  loved  before ! n 


"  Would  she,  my  freedom  and  my  bliss  to  kno^f, 

With  my  disloyalty  be  reconciled, 
And  from  her  bower  in  Eden  look  below, 
And  bless  the  Soldan's  child  ? 

For  she  is  lost :  but  she,  the  later  bride, 
Who  came  my  ruined  fortune  to  restore, 

Back  from  the  desert  wanders  at  my  side, 
And  leads  me  home  once  more. 

If  human  love,  she  sighs,  could  move  a  wife 
The  holiest  sacrifice  of  love  to  make, 

Then  the  transfigured  angel  of  thy  life 
Is  happier  for  thy  sake ! " 

14  *  It  was  our  wedding-day 

A  month  ago, '  dear  heart,  I  hear  you  say. 

If  months,  or  years,  or  ages  since  have  passed, 

I  know  not :  I  have  ceased  to  question  Time. 

I  only  know  that  once  there  pealed  a  chime 

Of  joyous  bells,  and  then  I  held  you  fast, 

And  all  stood  back,  and  none  my  right  denied, 

And  forth  we  walked :  the  world  was  free  and  wide 

Before  us.    Since  that  day 

I  count  my  life :    The  Past  te  washed  away." 


GREAT   GRIEF.  151 


CHAPTER  XVH. 

Grief  and  Despair.  —  Describes  his  Feelings.  —  Failing  Health.  — 
Severe  Mental  Labor.  —  Decides  to  go  to  Africa.  —  Visits  Vien 
na. —Arrival  at  Alexandria.  —  Sails  up  the  Nile.  —  Scenes  in 
Cairo.  —  The  Pyramids.  —  The  Lovely  Nile.  —  An  Important  and 
Pleasant  Acquaintance.  —  A  Lasting  Friendship.  —  Learning  the 
Language.  —  Assuming  the  Costume.  —  Sights  by  the  Way. 

THE  great  grief  which  Mr.  Taylor  felt  when  his  wife 
died,  was  so  deep  and  keen  that  he  was  for  many 
months  unreconciled,  and  in  a  mental  state  somewhat 
akin  to  despair.  His  appearance  among  his  friends, 
whether  at  Kennett  or  in  the  office  of  the  "  Tribune  "  at 
New  York,  did  not,  however,  betray  his  feelings  so 
much  as  his  private  correspondence  and  occasional 
poems.  He  was  the  sincerest  of  mourners ;  and  his 
natural  susceptibility  to  every  shade  of  emotion 
made  this  severe  bereavement  an  occasion  of  untold 
suffering.  In  his  endeavors  to  banish  the  gloomy 
spectre,  he  resorted  to  hard  work.  Plence,  the  first 
half  of  the  year  1851  was  one  of  the  busiest  seasons 
of  his  life.  He  wrote  early  and  late.  He  composed 
poems  and  essays,  wrote  editorials,  and  edited  corre 
spondence,  some  of  it  being  the  labor  attached  to  his 
profession,  but  a  great  share  of  it  written  to  occupy 
his  mind  and  shut  out  his  affliction. 


152  LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

His  ".Rhymes  of  Travel,"  which  had  been  published 
after  his  return  from  California,  called  the  attention  of 
the  reading  public  to  him  as  a  poet,  and  there  was  a 
strong  demand  for  another  volume.  His  friends  urged 
him  to  write,  his  uneasy  heart  pushed  him  into  work, 
and  the  newspapers  kept  questioning  him  about 
the  advent  of  a  second  volume,  until  he  decided  to 
bring  out  his  book  of  "Romances,  Lyrics,  and  Songs." 
There  was  one  poem  in  that  volume  which  was  very 
sweet  when  wholly  disconnected  with  history,  but 
which  becomes  fascinating  and  sad  as  Milton's  lament 
for  his  eyesight,  when  we  once  know  the  circumstances 
and  the  mental  condition  in  which  it  was  written.  Two 
verses  of  that  poem  were  printed,  as  follows:— 

"  Give  me  music,  sad  and  strong, 
Drawn  from  deeper  founts  than  song  ; 
More  impassioned,  full,  and  free, 
Than  the  poet's  numbers  be : 
Music  which  can  master  thee, 
Stern  enchantress,  Memory ! 
Piercing  through  the  gloomy  stress 
Of  thy  gathered  bitterness, 
As  the  summer  lightnings  play 
Through  a  cloud's  edge  far  away. 

Give  me  music ;  I  am  dumb  ; 
Choked  with  tears  that  never  come; 
Give  me  music ;  sigh  or  word 
Such  a  sorrow  never  stirred,  — 
Sorrow  that  with  blinding  pain 
Lies  like  fire  on  heart  and  brain. 
Earth  and  heaven  bring  no  relief, 
I  am  dumb ;  this  weight  of  grief 
Locks  my  lips ;  I  cannot  cry  : 
Give  me  music,  or  I  die," 


STARTING   AGAIN.  153 

It  was  then  that  he  wrote  those  pathetic  lines,  so  full 
of  his  sadness  and  so  descriptive  of  his  bereavement, 
that  he  was  never  satisfied  with  a  name  for  them  and 
finally  left  them  without  a  title,  the  first  couplet  of 
which  sufficiently  indicates  the  tenor, — 

"  Moan,  ye  wild  winds !  around  the  pane, 
And  fall,  thou  drear  December  rain !  " 

Such  a  sorrowful  heart  and  such  an  overworked 
brain  were  too  great  a  load  for  one  human  body  to  car 
ry.  His  physical  strength  had  never  been  remarkable, 
and  there  had  been  seasons  before  his  visit  to  Europe 
when  his  health  seemed  permanantly  impaired.  So 
when  this  great  strain  was  made  upon  his  system  it 
began  to  weaken.  To  continue  the  effort  was  suicidal, 
and  stoutly  condemned  by  his  relatives  and  friends. 
He  then  recalled  his  exhilarating  walks  among  the 
Alps  and  on  the  plains  of  Europe.  He  kindled  anew 
his  zeal  for  adventure.  He  studied  the  map  of  the 
world  to  decide  where  was  presented  the  most  fav 
orable  field  for  discovery.  He  wished  for  rest  from 
sorrow,  and  rest  from  close  application  to  literary 
work.  Such  a  relief  could  only  be  found  in  a  climate 
and  among  a  people  wholly  different  from  his  own. 
In  this  choice  he  was  guided  somewhat  by  a  fortunate 
opportunity  to  cross  the  Atlantic  as  a  guest  and  friend, 
and  by  the  accounts  which  a  literary  companion  in  the 
office  of  the  "  Tribune  "  gave  of  the  interesting  people 
and  scenery  along  the  coast  of  Palestine  and  Greece. 


154  LIFE    OF    BAYARD    TAYLOR. 

The  winter  had  passed  and  the  soothing  winds  of 
summer  seemed  so  grateful  and  necessary,  that  he 
decided  to  pass  the  next  winter  on  the  Mediterranean, 
should  his  health  admit  of  the  necessary  outlay  of 
strength.  In  writing  about  that  undertaking  after 
wards,  he  said  a  trip  into  Africa  would  furnish  good 
material  for  a  travelling  correspondent  and  hence  that 
continent  was  selected.  "But,"  he  said,  "there  were 
other  influences  acting  upon  me  which  I  did  not  fully 
comprehend  at  the  time,  and  cannot  now  describe 
without  going  too  deeply  into  matters  of  private 
history."  But  while  in  Central  Africa,  enjoying  the 
invigorating  breezes  along  the  Nile,  he  reveals  a  part  of 
that  private  history  by  an  incidental  exclamation  pub 
lished  in  a  letter  to  the  "  Tribune."  "  Oh  !  what  a  rest 
is  this  from  the  tantalizing  and  sorrowful  suggestions 
of  civilization."  He  fled  from  sorrow — driven  into  the 
desert. 

Having  reached  Smyrna,  on  the  coast  of  Asia  Minor, 
by  the  overland  route  to  Constantinople  via  Vienna, 
he  re-embarked  at  that  port  for  Alexandria  in  Egypt, 
arriving  at  the  latter  place  Nov.  1,  1851.  We  shall 
not  attempt  here  to  give  in  any  satisfactory  detail 
the  record  of  his  wanderings  in  Africa,  as  they 
are  so  charmingly  and  instructively  told  in  the  book 
which  he  wrote  concerning  them,  and  as  no  book  of 
travel  in  Egypt,  except  a  scientific  work,  can  supplant 
or  equal  the  many  which  already  honor  our  shelves. 
The  writer  having  been  over  a  large  portion  of  Mr. 


A  FORTUNATE  FRIENDSHIP.          155 

Taylor's  routes,  and  feeling  much  indebted  to  him 
for  his  works,  which  were  often  used  as  guides, 
has  perhaps  a  greater  interest  in  recording  his  travels, 
than  the  reader  would  have  in  going  through  the  story 
a  second  time.  Hence,  for  the  purposes  of  this  out  line 
sketch  of  Mr.  Taylor's  life,  we  shall  introduce  only 
such  incidents  and  facts  connected  with  his  wanderings 
as  appear  to  have  some  direct  or  unusual  bearing  upon 
his  character,  or  which  display  some  peculiarity  of  his 
genius  or  taste. 

He  said,  in  a  letter  to  a  friend  in  New  York,  that  he 
w  owed  a  debt  of  gratitude  "  to  the  Providence  which 
led  him,  to  the  country  which  attracted  him,  and  to  the 
vessel  which  carried  him  from  Smyrna  to  Alexandria. 
That  sentiment  was  awakened  in  his  heart  by  the  way 
in  which  some  of  the  important  events  in  his  after  life 
pointed  back  to  that  trip  and  to  the  valuable  friend  he 
met  there.  Mr.  Taylor  was  of  a  genial,  approachable 
nature,  and  easily  made  the  acquaintance  of  any  person 
whom  he  met.  But  having  German  blood  in  his  veins, 
loving  the  German  language,  and  entertaining  a  sincere 
respect  for  German  literature,  he  naturally  sought  the 
company  of  the  German  people.  On  the  very  threshold 
of  this  trip  into  Africa  he  made  the  acquaintance  of  a 
German  gentleman,  whose  culture  and  geniality  made 
him  a  great  acquisition  in  a  strange  land.  They  seem 
to  have  taken  a  deep  interest  in  each  other  from  the 
first  time  they  met.  It  may  be  because  their  condition 
in  life,  socially  and  circumstantially,  was  so  similar; 


156  LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

but  the  more  reasonable  explanation  is  found  in  their 
similar  tastes  and  equal  regard  for  the  works  of  genius 
and  the  beauties  of  nature.  It  will  be  like  a  romance, 
when  told  in  all  its  detail,  as  it  might  be  now,  and  will 
be  when  the  present  generation  passes  away.  How  little 
could  his  human  understanding  comprehend  the  great 
results  turning  upon  the  simple,  commonplace  self-in 
troduction  to  a  German  travelling  companion  !  This 
friend,  whom  he  met,  and  with  whom  he  made  the  jour 
ney  up  to  the  cataracts  of  the  Nile,  was  perhaps  as 
remarkable  a  man  as  Taylor,  and  belonged  to  a  family 
of  scholars  and  long  respected  agricultural  citizens  of 
the  German  principality  of  Saxe-Coburg-Gotha. 

The  chief  merit  of  Mr.  Taylor's  descriptions  lay  in 
their  apparent  frankness  and  their  charming  details. 
He  appeared  to  think  that  every  reader  was  acquainted 
with  the  works  of  those  great  archaeologists,  Lepsius 
and  Champollion,  and  did  not  attempt  to  supply  to 
his  readers  the  information  they  had  already  given. 
He  seems  to  have  imagined  that  all  the  reading  public 
wished  to  follow  him,  and  he  gave  such  information  as 
the  tourist  would  need.  He  told  about  the  clothes  he 
purchased  in  Alexandria,  about  the  fit  of  his  Arab  attire, 
about  the  cost  of  a  dinner,  the  conversation  between 
dragomen  and  boatmen,  the  personal  appearance  of  his 
companions,  the  faithlessness  of  his  guide,  the  dirty 
appearance  of  his  boat,  and  the  gorgeous  sunset.  He 
described  his  own  sensations  and  actions  with  the 
boldness  of  one  unconscious  of  any  motive  to  conceal 


EMBARKS    ON    THE    NILE.  157 

or  deceive.  He  reveals  the  sorrow  of  his  heart  by 
occasional  remarks  such  as  these  :  "  For  many  months 
past  I  had  known  no  mood  of  mind  so  peaceful  and 
grateful."  —  "I  am  away  from  reminders  of  sorrow."  — 
"  It  is  not  the  beauty  of  the  desert  that  gratifies  me  so 
much,  in  these  days,  after  all,  as  the  absence  of  civili 
zation." 

The  party,  which  consisted  of  Mr.  Taylor,  the  Ger 
man  companion,  and  an  Italian,  engaged  one  of  the 
Nile  boats,  at  Alexandria,  for  the  trip  up  the  Nile,  and 
after  testing  the  comforts,  or  misery,  of  the  Egyptian 
hotels,  seeing  Cleopatra's  Needle  (  now  in  London  ) 
and  Pompey's  Pillar,  which  were  then  as  in  later  years 
about  all  that  there  was  to  be  seen  of  interest  in  Alex 
andria,  they  started  on  their  lazy  voyage  up  the  won 
derful  Nile.  He  wrote  with  great  enthusiasm  of  the 
sweet  rest  he  found  in  a  pipe  of  tobacco,  after  the  man 
ner  of  all  habitual  smokers.  He  seems  to  have  had 
plenty  of  time  to  muse  and  smoke  as  he  slowly  ascended 
the  stream.  It  has  often  been  a  subject  of  wonder 
that  he  could  afterwards  remember  so  many  incidents 
and  the  impressions  they  had  made  on  him,  when  per 
haps  weeks  of  time  and  some  more  exciting  transactions 
had  intervened.  But  Mr.  Taylor  did  not  wait  long  be 
fore  recording  his  ideas  and  comments,  and  was  in  tho 
habit  of  keeping  a  memoranda-book  always  at  hand, 
and  while  travelling,  noted  with  a  pencil  any  peculiar 
thought  or  incident  which  awakened  attention. 

At  Atfeh,  which  has  been  for  hundreds  of  years  an 


158  LIFE    OF   BAYARD   TAYLOR. 

intermediate  stopping-place  on  the  highway  and  river 
between  Alexandria  and  Cairo,  he  clambered  up  into 
the  town  and  witnessed  a  marriage  procession.  He 
appears  to  have  been  inclined  to  get  a  near  view  of  the 
bride  ;  but  the  relatives  hurried  her  off,  and  with  cries 
and  threatening  gestures  drove  him  back  to  cover. 
But  he  decided  that  if  he  could  not  see  the  bride,  he 
would  do  the  next  best  thing,  and  accordingly  visited 
her  father.  The  disconsolate  parent  was  being  com 
forted  by  a  hoarse  chant  and  appeared  to  be  as  cheerful 
as  could  be  expected  considering  the  din. 

At  the  town  of  Nadir  he  went  into  a  low  mud  hut, 
which  pretended  to  be  a  cafe,  and  there  saw  the  Egyp 
tian  fandango  danced  by  the  inmates.  He  records  the 
shape  and  sound  of  the  musical  instruments  and  with 
polished  and  concise  language  pictured  the  scene  to 
the  reader's  eye.  This,  with  the  accounts  of  the  im 
provements,  rates  of  toll,  and  the  manner  of  passing 
the  boats  by  locks,  and  government  officials,  with  many 
minor  details  is  told  in  a  manner  which,  notwithstand 
ing  the  dryness  of  the  subject,  makes  most  fascinating 
reading. 

But  he  counted  his  entrance  into  Cairo,  the  capital 
of  Egypt,  as  the  actual  beginning  of  his  tour  into 
Africa.  For  at  Alexandria  and  along  the  Nile  as  far 
as  Bourak  the  people  exhibited  some  traits  which  con 
nect  them  with  the  civilized  West.  But  Cairo  is 
wholly  Egyptian.  The  centuries  have  made  no  appar 
ent  changes  in  the  people.  The  donkeys,  the  veiled 


IN    CAIRO.  159 

women,  the  fierce  Arabs,  the  water-skins,  the  fountains, 
the  slaves,  the  palms,  the  white  domes,  aud  the  low 
shops  revive  the  historical  associations  and  personify 
the  Past.  Like  an  oasis  in  the  adjacent  desert  was  the 
Hotel  d'Europe.  But  it  served  to  impress  the  reality 
of  these  surroundings  more  forcibly  upon  the  travellers. 
With  a  readiness  and  enjoyment  which  his  companions 
did  not  share,  he  accustomed  himself  to  the  manners 
and  appearance  of  the  people,  and  it  was  scarcely  a 
day  before  Mr.  Taylor  would  smoke  his  perfumed  chi 
bouk,  sit  cross-legged,  and  eat  with  his  fingers  like  a 
native  Arab.  He  rode  the  little  donkeys  as  well  as 
any  citizen  of  Cairo,  aud  was  even  more  reckless  than 
they,  if  that  were  possible,  as  he  rode  through  the  mar 
ket-places  at  a  furious  speed.  The  Egyptians,  like  the 
Germans,  Italians,  French,  Hungarians,  and  Syrians, 
felt  a  kind  of  fellowship  for  Mr.  Taylor,  and  admired 
his  good-sense  in  appreciating  and  adopting  so  many 
of  their  customs.  He  was  the  acquaintance  and  confi 
dential  friend  of  a  dozen  old  Arabs  before  he  had  been 
two  days  in  Cairo.  He  was  a  lover  of  mankind.  He 
sympathized  with  them  all.  As  the  Shereef  of  Mecca 
rides  by,  Mr.  Taylor  admires  his  dignity  and  his  im 
posing  retinue.  As  a  marriage  procession  files  through 
the  streets,  he  comments  on  the  playing  of  the  flutes, 
the  crimson  robes  of  the  bride,  and  the  diadem,  with 
the  simplicity  of  a  country  maiden  in  America.  He 
enjoys  the  athletic  tricks  of  the  showmen,  the  skill  of 
the  swordsmen,  the  voices  of  the  singers,  the  zeal  of 


160  LIFE    OF   BAYARD    TAYLOR. 

the  beggars,  and  the  endurance  of  the  laborers.  He  w 
one  of  the  same  human  family.  They  know  it,  and  feel 
it,  and  he  is  welcome. 

The  German  acquaintance,  who  had  not  intended  to 
go  farther  than  Cairo,  was  so  delighted  with  Mr.  Tay 
lor's  companionship  and  Mr.  Taylor  was  so  interested  in 
him,  that  he  decided  to  go  up  the  Nile  as  far  as  Assouan, 
which  was  on  the  border  of  the  Central  African  coun 
tries.  Mr.  Taylor  speaks  with  sentiments  of  enthusi 
astic  thankfulness  of  his  good  fortune  in  thus  securing 
a  travelling  companion,  whose  tastes  and  sentiments 
were  so  akin  to  his  own.  He  little  thought  then,  that 
while  trying  to  shut  out  his  sorrow  by  voluntary  exile, 
he  was  opening  the  door  to  a  second  love.  Mr.  Tay 
lor's  singular  admiration  and  love  for  his  companion  is 
almost  unaccountable,  unless  we  adopt  some  theory  of 
foreordination  or  providential  design. 

A  most  interesting,  amusing,  and  friendly  trip  they 
had  up  the  stream,  for  thousands  of  years  so  historic, 
in  a  boat  manned  by  ten  boatmen,  and  of  which  they 
were  the  commanders.  Neither  of  them  had  ever  been 
in  Egypt  before,  but  their  maps  and  guide-books, 
coupled  with  their  early  historical  training,  made  the 
localities  along  their  route  seem  more  familiar  to  them 
than  to  the  dragomen,  who  made  it  a  business  to  guide 
travellers.  Thay  named  their  boat  the  "  Cleopatra," 
ran  up  the  Stars  and  Stripes  to  the  peak,  and,  with 
contented  minds  but  active  brains,  enjoyed  to  the  full 
the  strange  scenes  and  historic  ruins  which  showed 


ON    THE   NILE.  161 

themselves  on  every  hand.  They  first  visited  the  Pyr 
amids,  where  Mr.  Taylor  gratified  his  taste  for  climb 
ing  heights,  and  nearly  killed  himself  by  rushing  down. 
With  characteristic  regard  for  those  who  were  to 
come  after  him,  Mr.  Taylor  rebuked  the  importunities 
of  the  backsheesh-loving  Arabs  about  the  Pyramids, 
and  obtaining  no  satisfaction  from  them,  he  reported 
them  to  the  chief,  who  compelled  the  greedy  desper 
adoes  to  submit  to  a  severe  whipping. 

They  visited  ancient  Memphis,  which  the  French 
explorer,  Mariette,  was  then  exhuming,  and  trod  the 
pavements  over  which  had  passed  the  feet  of  Menes, 
Amasis,  Pharaoh,  Strabo,  and  Cambyses.  They  were 
hospitably  entertained  by  the  great  antiquarian,  and 
felt  that  such  a  visit  was  ample  reward  for  all  their 
outlay.  From  Memphis  they  proceeded  to  Siout,  and 
on  the  way  talked,  composed,  and  sung  the  praises  of 
Father  Nile.  It  may  be  that  Mr.  Taylor's  mood,  which 
he  so  often  mentions,  had  an  influence  upon  his  taste, 
or  it  may  be  that  the  season  was  one  peculiarly  adapted 
to  the  exhibition  of  beauty  in  the  Nile,  but  the  writer, 
in  a  later  year,  was  not  so  charmed  by  the  scenery  and 
river  as  Mr.  Taylor  appears  to  have  been.  No  other 
traveller  has  written  such  glowing  encomiums  upon  the 
Nile  as  Mr.  Taylor  recorded  in  his  letters,  and  either 
he  appreciated  nature  more  than  other  travellers,  or 
there  was  something  in  his  circumstances  which  placed 
a  halo  of  beauty  about  the  palms  and  meadows.  In 
the  "  Nilotic  Drinking-Song  "  Mr.  Taylor  said :  — 


162  LIFE   OF  BAYARD   TAYLOR. 

"  Cloud  never  gave  birth,  nor  cradle  the  Earth, 

To  river  so  grand  and  fair  as  this  is : 
Not  the  waves  that  roll  us  the  gold  of  Pactolus, 
Nor  cool  Cephissus,  nor  classic  Ilissus. 
The  lily  may  dip 
Her  ivory  lip, 

To  kiss  the  ripples  of  clear  Eurotas  ; 
But  the  Nile  brings  balm 
From  the  myrr  and  palm, 
And  the  ripe,  voluptuous  lips  of  the  lotus. 

The  waves  that  ride  on  his  mighty  tide 

Were  poured  from  the  urns  of  unvisited  mountains ; 
And  their  sweets  of  the  South  mingle  cool  in  the  mouth, 
With  the  freshness  and  sparkle  of  Northern  fountains. 

Again  and  again 

The  goblet  we  drain  — 
Diviner  a  stream  never  Nereid  swam  on : 

For  Isis  and  Orus 

Have  quaffed  before  us, 
And  Ganymede  dipped  it  for  Jupiter  Amnion." 

His  admiration  was  not  spasmodic,  for  he  always 
mentioned  the  Nile  as  the  most  majestic  of  rivers.  To 
the  majority  of  travellers,  however,  the  hoary  ruins  of 
mighty  cities,  the  tombs  of  priests,  and  the  pyramids 
of  kings  are  so  much  more  exciting  and  mysterious, 
that  the  Nile  is  itself  of  secondary  importance. 

Yet,  Mr.  Taylor,  with  all  his  interest  in  the  river, 
did  not  have  less  in  the  celebrated  localities  and  ancient 
remains.  He  ascended  many  honeycombed  mountains, 
to  creep  among  the  bones  of  men  who  lived  thirty-five 
hundred  years  ago.  He  gazed  with  a  yearning  inter 
est  upon  the  broken  columns  of  unknown  temples,  and 


COSTUME    AND   LANGUAGE.  163 

dreamed  of  their  former  grandeur,  while  apathetically 
overseeing  the  affairs  of  his  little  monarchy  over  which 
he  kept  floating  the  Stars  and  Stripes.  He  became  so 
absorbed  in  the  climate,  the  people,  and  the  history  of 
the  land,  that  he  soon  adopted  the  full  costume  of  the 
country  and  became  henceforth  an  Arab  with  the 
others.  He  was  marvellously  quick  in  picking  up  the 
words  and  phrases  of  any  language,  and  soon,  with  the 
aid  of  a  small  phrase-book,  he  could  readily  converse 
with  the  natives  along  the  shore.  These  characteristics 
made  it  safe  and  pleasant  for  him  to  travel  where  many 
others  would  have  found  only  misery  and  death. 


164  UFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Moslem  Worship.  —  Scenery  of  the  Nile.  —  Fellowship  with  the 
People.  —  The  Temple  of  Dendera.  —  Mr.  Taylor's  Enthusi 
asm.  —  Luxor.  —  Karnak.  —  The  Extent  of  Ancient  Thebes.  — 
The  Tombs  and  Statues.  —  The  Natives.  —  Arrives  at  Assouan. 
-  The  Island  of  Philse.  —  Separation  of  the  Friends.  — 
Starts  for  the  White  Nile.  —  Trip  through  the  Desert.  —  Again 
on  the  Nile.  —  Reception  by  the  People  and  Officials.  —  Visits 
Ancient  Meroe. 

MR.  Taylor's  sympathy  with  all  mankind  led  him  to 
regard  with  sincere  respect  the  daily  religious  ceremo 
nies  which  his  Moslem  boatmen  performed,  with  their 
faces  toward  Mecca.  He  often  mentioned  their  punc 
tuality  and  apparent  sincerity,  and  contrasted  it  with 
some  of  the  formal,  half-hearted  proceedings  in  some 
Christian  churches.  His  regard  for  conscientious  wor 
ship,  which  appeared  to  characterize  the  ignorant  Arabs, 
appears  more  striking  to  persons  who  have  travelled 
the  same  route  over  which  Mr.  Taylor  went,  for  it  is 
so  common  a  sight  to  see  bigoted,  conceited  Europeans 
ridiculing  the  prostrations,  prayers,  and  gestures  of 
the  worshippers.  The  writer  most  keenly  regrets 
having  been  compelled  to  witness  the  caricaturing  of 
a  Moslem  at  prayer,  by  a  coarse,  hard-hearted,  brutal 
Christian  countryman,  while  the  sad  and  shocked 


LIFE   ON   THE    NILE.  165 

believers  in  Mahomet  stood  by,  scarce  able  to  resist  the 
temptation  to  throw  the  Frank  into  the  Nile.  In  the 
lovable,  noble  character  of  Mr.  Taylor,  there  was  no 
inclination  to  ridicule  the  conscientious  belief  of  any 
man,  and  instinctively  he  kept  silent  and  patiently 
endured  the  delay  when  the  call  to  prayer  took  his 
employees  from  their  labor.  In  return  for  his  sincere 
regard  for  them,  he  received  the  love  and  most  faith 
ful  service  of  the  natives.  They  stole  nothing  from 
him.  They  shielded  him  from  enemies  and  aflection- 
ately  cared  for  his  health. 

Thus,  with  friends  for  boatmen,  an  admirer  for 
a  guide,  and  a  most  agreeable  comrade  for  a  travelling 
companion,  he  floated  along,  inhaling  from  every 
breeze  the  essence  of  health  and  comfort.  The  banks 
were  covered  with  the  richest  and  rarest  verdure,  for 
it  was  the  Egyptian  spring.  There  were  luxuriant 
grasses,  palms  and  sugar-cane;  there  flourished  wheat, 
cotton,  maize,  hemp,  indigo,  tobacco,  oranges,  olives, 
and  dates,  springing  from  the  richest  soil  which 
civilized  man  has  yet  seen.  Harvests  came  and  went 
in  confused  succession ;  the  ripe  fruit  with  blossom ; 
threshing-floors  piled  with  ripe  dourra,  while  around, 
the  new  wheat  seeking  the  sunlight,  betokened 
a  bounty  munificent  and  inexhaustible.  So  prolific 
and  speedy  was  the  growth  of  the  crops  that  the  peo 
ple  could  not,  with  their  rude  implements,  avail  them 
selves  of  the  full  benefits  of  one  harvest  before  its  rank 
successors  forced  theiruter=Uirn  their  labor  into  other 


166  LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

channels.  Then,  as  now,  the  fields,  for  miles  inland 
from  the  river,  were  checkered  with  canals,  and  the 
rude  water-wheel  and  awkward  "  well-sweep "  were 
kept  in  constant  motion  to  supply  the  vast  amount  of 
water  necessary  to  the  irrigation  of  hundreds  of  square 
miles.  There  were  goats,  mules,  horses,  and  a  variety 
of  fowl,  and  in  the  wild  nooks  a  grand  collection  of 
birds  of  the  gayest  songs  and  plumage.  The  sky  was 
clear,  the  air  balmy,  the  breezes  cool  and  light,  the 
cabin  of  their  boat  was  spacious,  and  their  beds  com 
fortable.  It  was  "  a  soothing  experience  for  an  aching 
heart." 

In  the  first  week  of  December  they  arrived  at  Den- 
dera,  where  stands  in  majestic  completeness  one  of  the 
most  ancient  temples  of  Egypt.  It  has  for  thousands 
of  years  been  half  buried  in  the  earth,  and  at  one  time 
must  have  been  nearly  hid  by  the  shifting  sands  of  the 
desert  which  once  surrounded  the  pile.  The  impres 
sion  which  the  gigantic  columns,  sixty  feet  high,  and 
the  enormous  blocks  of  stone,  eight  feet  thick,  gave  to 
them,  is  doubtless  shared  in  some  degree  by  all  travel 
lers.  As  he  walked  through  the  shadowy  recesses, 
each  aperture  seeming  like  a  deep  cave  in  a  rocky 
mountain,  he  was  filled  with  a  solemn  sense  of  awe 
and  sadness,  which  so  overwhelmed  him  that  he 
peered  about  the  avenues  in  silencu,  and  involuntarily 
stood  on  tip-toe.  The  sombre  grandeur  of  the  mas 
sive  masonry,  the  sacred  associations  connected  with 
the  ancient  worship  of  Osiris  and  Isis,  the  wonderful 


DENDEfcA  AND   THEBES.  167 

tales  of  wars,  tyrannies,  famines,  plagues,  Rameses, 
Moses,  Pharaoh,  Alexander,  Ptolemy,  Cambyses,  and 
Napoleon,  which  those  lofty  statues  could  tell  if  their 
symmetrical  lips  could  speak,  awaken  indescribable 
emotions,  deep,  thrilling,  and  permanent.  Mr.  Tay 
lor  saw  a  grace  and  an  artistic  merit  in  the  stone  fig 
ures,  and  in  the  hieroglyphics  that  adorned  the  tem 
ple,  which  few  travellers  detect  or  admit.  To  many 
travellers  the  figures  on  those  old  porches  and  halls 
seem  rude  and  often  out  of  proportion,  and  the  writer 
confesses  to  having  been  one  of  the  latter  class.  But 
Mr.  Taylor's  appreciating  scrutiny  may  be  accounted 
for  on  the  basis  that  with  his  poetical  instincts  and 
thorough  culture  in  art,  there  wrere  beauties  in  those 
works  of  ancient  sculptors,  latent  to  others,  but  appar 
ent  and  striking  to  him.  But  there  is  no  disagreement 
as  to  the  unspeakable  solemnity  of  the  place  and  the 
gloom  of  its  lonely  halls. 

The  next  night  they  reached  Luxor,  and  caught  the 
first  glimpse  of  those  interesting  ruins  by  moonlight. 
There,  silent  and  stately,  arose  the  great  Colonnade. 
There,  quietly  recalling  the  ancients,  stood  the  twin 
Obelisk  to  the  one  at  which  Mr.  Taylor  had  often 
looked  in  the  Place  de  la  Concorde  in  Paris,  when  as  a 
boy  he  dreamed  of  distant  Egypt.  For  seven  miles 
around  the  Temple  of  Luxor  are  the  ruins  of  ancient 
Thebes,  within  which  were  once  the  temples  of  Kar- 
nak,  Luxor,  Goorneh,  Memnonium,  and  hundreds 
more,  which  now  cumber  the  otherwise  fertile  plains. 


168  LIFE   OF   BAYARD 


Thebes,  with  its  hundred  gates,  with  its  countless 
armies,  with  its  wise  men,  its  Colossus  that  sang  in  the 
morning  sunlight,  its  avenues  of  sphinxes  and  gods  in 
stone,  lay  broken,  spurned,  and  dead  before  them.  The 
same  moon  looked  down  on  them  that  gazed  on  the  priests 
of  Isis  and  the  palace  of  its  Caesars.  No  one  can  imagine 
anything  so  solemn  and  grand  as  to  stand  in  the  moon 
light  on  the  haunted  plains  of  ancient  Thebes  !  One 
may  have  thought  the  Coliseum  at  Rome  impressive 
beyond  description  when  seen  in  the  favorable  light  of 
an  autumn  moon,  but  when  compared  with  Thebes  it 
is  tame  and  insignificant.  Ages  and  ages  before  the 
rape  of  the  Sabines,  these  temples  had  been  constructed. 
They  saw  the  morning  of  civilization  ;  but  now  they 
are  ruined  and  useless,  the  night  seems  best  fitted  for 
an  appreciative  view  of  them.  Among  the  mighty 
colonnades  whose  columns  are  broken  and  falling,  and 
around  gigantic  remains  of  ancient  statues  carved  from 
a  mountain  of  stone,  Mr.  Taylor  wandered  for  two 
whole  days.  He  scrutinized  closely  the  long  rows  of 
ancient  tombs,  and  stood  in  the  rocky  grave  of  Ra- 
moses  I.  The  pictures  on  the  walls  of  the  tombs,  the 
kind  of  rock,  the  original  shape  of  the  temples,  the 
employments  of  the  ancient  races,  the  blue  sky  over 
head,  the  clear  atmosphere  around,  together  with 
sketches  of  history  and  poetical  allusions,  shared  in 
the  interesting  letters  which  Mr.  Taylor  wrote  from 
Thebes.  Such  scenes  contain  an  inspiration  and  an 
education  which  make  scholars  and  statesmen  ^f  such 


RUINS   OF   THEBES.  169 

as  love  history  and  appreciate  the  lessons  those  ruins 
teach.  To  one  of  Mr.  Taylor's  disposition,  a  visit  to 
such  a  place  was  a  privilege  not  to  be  lightly  thrown 
away.  He  investigated  everything,  and  in  a  manner 
bordering  on  recklessness  he  descended  through  small 
holes  into  dark  subterranean  tombs,  and  with  equal  har 
dihood  walked  the  crumbling  roofs  and  cornices  of  the 
lofty  ruins.  He  looked  with  disgust  on  the  evidences 
of  spoliations  which  were  to  be  seen  in  splintered 
columns  and  fragments  of  ancient  frescoes,  and  which 
were  the  work  of  scientific  explorers.  He  regarded 
with  a  jealous  anxiety  the  evidences  of  vandalism  and 
decay,  and  wished  sincerely  that  time  and  man 
would  allow  those  precious  relics  of  the  old  regime  to 
remain  forever  intact.  He  appears  to  have  regarded 
those  massive  wrecks  as  half-human,  and  sympathized 
with  their  forsaken  and  friendless  condition. 

But  in  all  this  antiquarian  excitement,  which  usually 
occupies  the  undivided  attention  of  less  enthusiastic 
travellers,  Mr.  Taylor  neglected  not  the  living.  He 
witnessed  with  interest  the  graces  of  the  Arabian 
dancing-girls,  noticed  the  features  of  the  beggar-boys, 
the  methods  of  teaching  children  the  Koran,  and  the 
worn  appearance  of  the  water-carriers. 

Leaving  Luxor,  they  spent  three  or  four  days  as 
cending  the  river  to  Assouan,  and  in  visiting  the  vil 
lages,  old  temples,  half-buried  cities,  and  gorgeously 
decorated  tombs  in  the  mountain-sides,  which  are 
almost  numberless  in  the  valley  of  Upper  Egypt.  At 


170  LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

Assouan,  he  was  most  cordially  received  by  the  Gov 
ernor  and  was  given  a  friendly  greeting  by  all  the 
officials  he  met.  From  that  town  he  made  several 
excursions  with  his  German  friend,  the  most  interest 
ing  of  which  was  that  to  the  cataract  of  the  Nile  and 
the  island  of  Philse.  There  he  saw  the  celebrated 
temple  of  the  time  of  the  Ptolemies,  which  he  looked 
upon  as  modern,  because  it  was  not  over  twenty-two 
hundred  years  old.  But  he  felt  sufficient  interest  in 
the  ruins  of  the  old  city  to  describe  that  marvellous 
colonnade  which  has  astonished  so  many  visitors  to  the 
island  of  Philse.  The  reader  of  his  letters  can  detect, 
however,  in  Mr.  Taylor's  description  of  columns, 
aisles,  roofs,  walls,  capitals,  sculptures,  monoliths, 
and  colossi,  a  vein  of  sadness  which  may  have  colored 
his  views.  At  all  events  the  ruins  of  Philae  did  not 
impress  him  as  they  seem  to  have  affected  other  vis 
itors.  The  fact  that  he  was  so  soon  to  part  with  a 
companion  for  whom  he  felt  a  love  like  that  of  Jona 
than  for  David,  may  have  had  more  or  less  influ 
ence  upon  his  capacity  to  enjoy  scenery  or  the  re 
mains  of  antiquity  :  for  the  writer  looked  upon  Philoe  as 
one  of  the  most  interesting  localities  of  the  lower  Nile, 
and  cannot  but  regard  the  ruined  temple  as  one  of  the 
grandest  in  Egypt.  They  visited  the  fields,  villages, 
the  tombs,  the  ancient  quarry,  wherein  half-sculptured 
statues  and  columns  still  remain  unmoved,  and  after  a 
day  of  antiquarian  research  they  rode  back  to  their 
boat,  as  he  said  "  with  heavy  hearts."  The  next  dav 


PARTING    AT    ASSOUAN.  171 

came  the  hour  of  parting ;  and  these  two  men,  one  a 
young  man,  the  other  an  elderly  gentleman,  who  had 
been  utter  strangers  forty  days  before,  now  clung  to 
each  other  with  the  sincerest  brotherly  love  and 
parted  in  tears.  How  little  did  Mr.  Taylor  think,  as 
he  saw  the  boat  sailing  away  for  Cairo  with  the  Saxc- 
Coburg  colors  at  the  peak,  where  he  had  so  long  kept 
the  Stars  and  Stripes,  that  they  would  meet  again  in 
the  sunny  southern  lands  of  Europe,  and  that  another 
person  would  join  their  company  for  life  and  make  up 
what  he  termed  "a  sacred  triad/'  He  thought  then  that 
the  parting  might  be  for  all  time.  He  was  going  into 
an  unknown  wilderness,  while  his  friend  sought  again 
the  lands  of  civilization :  it  was  a  long  time  before 
either  could  dispel  the  gloom  which  their  separation 
left  about  them. 

Mr.  Taylor  took  another  boat  at  Assouan  and  pro 
ceeded  to  Korosko,  where,  with  the  assistance  of  the 
Governor  and  a  wild  Arab  chieftain,  whose  friendship 
was  purchased  by  presents  and  sociability,  he  secured 
the  necessary  camels  and  outfit  for  a  trip  across  the 
desert.  It  was  a  hazardous  undertaking  for  a  stranger, 
alone,  unknown,  to  traverse  the  desert.  If  he  was 
murdered,  none  of  the  authorities  would  care,  nor 
would  his  death  become  known.  He  might  contract 
thp  terrible  fever.  He  was  liable  to  be  eaten  by  wild 
be^ts,  and  he  ran  great  risk  of  dying  of  thirst  or  hun 
ger  on  the  hot  sands  of  a  trackless  desert.  The  way 
09^  een  travelled  many  times  before,  but  was  all  the 


It  2  LIFE    OF   BAYARD 


more  dangerous  because  of  the  opportunity  it  gave 
robbers  to  lie  in  wait  for  tourists.  But  he  unhesitat 
ingly  entered  upon  the  journey,  trusting  in  the  friend 
ship  of  his  Nubian  and  Arabian  servants,  and  in  his 
own  ability  to  withstand  the  heat  of  the  sands  and  the 
attacks  of  African  fever.  Camping  in  the  desert 
sands,  riding  a  dromedary  in  the  scorching  sun,  living 
upon  rudely  prepared  food,  drinking  lukewarm  water, 
with  the  sight  of  bones  and  carcasses  by  the  way  to 
warn  him,  and  the  occasional  appearance  of  sickly  re 
turning  caravans  to  dishearten  him,  he  passed  that  arm 
of  the  desert  between  the  first  cataract  of  the  Nile  and 
Abou-Hammed.  Thence  his  little  caravan  of  six  cam 
els  followed  the  winding  river  to  a  small  town,  El 
Mekheyref,  where  he  dismissed  his  friendly  companions, 
excepting  one,  who  had  accompanied  him  from  Cairo, 
and  set  sail  again  on  the  Nile.  Everywhere  he  was 
received  with  kindness  and  hospitality  by  the  natives 
and  by  the  Governors.  His  servants  were  so  much 
interested  in  his  welfare  that  they  told  the  natives  that 
he  was  a  high  official  in  the  country  from  which  he 
came,  and  he  was  treated  with  the  respect  the  Eastern 
people  think  is  due  to  persons  of  high  rank.  All  dis 
claimers  from  him  were  considered  to  be  actuated  by 
feelings  of  modesty  and  elevated  him  in  the  estimation 
of  his  entertainers. 

His  visit  to  Meroe  was  an  interesting  episode  in  his 
long  pilgrimage,  although  he  did  not  make  such  dili 
gent  search  as  an  antiquarian  among  its  crumbling 


MERGE.  173 

walls  as  he  had  done  in  some  of  the  other  ancient  cities. 
Yet  his  descriptions  of  that  place  are  most  vivid  pic 
tures  and  convey  an  idea  of  the  topography  of  the 
capital  of  that  ancient  kingdom  in  a  manner  most 
readable  to  the  stranger  and  very  important  to  students 
of  history. 


174  LIFE    OF   BAYARD   TAYLOR. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

From  Meroe  to  Khartoum.  —  Twenty-seventh  Birth-day. — Desire 
to  Explore  Central  Africa.  —  Ascent  of  the  White  Nile. — Ad 
venture  with  the  Savage  Shillooks.  — Visits  the  Natives.  — Re 
turn  to  Khartoum.  —  Crossing  the  Desert.  —  Parting  with 
Friends.  — Descent  of  the  Nile.  —  Arrival  at  Cairo. 

THE  journey  from  Meroe  to  Khartoum  on  the  Ethi 
opian  Nile,  Mr.  Taylor  enjoyed  very  much,  having  lit 
tle  to  do  but  amuse  the  sailors  and  be  in  turn  amused 
with  stories  of  Mohammed,  of  Haroun-al-Raschid,  and 
the  oriental  wonders  contained  in  songs  and  traditions. 
The  climate  gave  him  health,  his  genial  good-nature 
brought  him  friends,  and  his  experience  would  supply 
the  necessities  of  life  in  after  years.  There  were  nar 
row  escapes  from  animals,  men,  and  treacherous  rapids  ; 
but  he  had  become  accustomed  to  such  things,  and 
assumed  enough  of  the  Arab  character  to  exclaim  with 
them,  at  each  escape,  "It  is  the  will  of  Allah."  The 
day  before  he  arrived  at  Khartoum  was  Mr.  Taylor's 
twenty-seventh  birth-day. 

Having  letters  to  many  of  the  officials  of  Khartoum, 
which  was  a  military  and  trading  station  at  the  junc 
tion  of  the  Blue  and  the  White  Nile,  he  received  a  cordial 
welcome,  which  made  him  feel  at  once  that  he  was 
among  friends.  He  was  then  at  the  extreme  outskirts 


THE   WILDS    OF    AFRICA.  175 

of  civilization.  All  beyond  was  dark  and  unknown. 
Trading  caravans  consisting  of  Arabs  and  natives  often 
visited  the  interior,  and  small  boats  frequently  went 
farther  up  the  Nile  for  purposes  of  traffic.  But  there 
was  little  known  about  the  people,  the  topography 
of  the  country,  or  of  the  course  of  the  Nile.  There 
was  a  Catholic  mission  at  Khartoum,  where  the  mis 
sionaries  treated  Mr.  Taylor  with  great  consideration 
and  kindness.  Some  of  them  had  made  exploring 
excursions  into  the  wilds  of  Central  Africa,  and  it  was 
his  hope  that  he  could  get  into  some  expedition  with 
them  during  that  season.  But  in  that  he  was  disap 
pointed.  None  of  the  missionaries  were  intending  to 
visit  the  tribes  to  the  south  that  season,  and  no  other 
suitable  opportunity  presented  itself.  He  did  not  give 
up  the  hope  of  seeing  the  unexplored  regions  of  the 
interior,  until  he  had  exhausted  every  means  in  his 
power  for  procuring  a  fit  escort.  The  unfortunate  com 
bination  of  circumstances,  which  prevented  him  from 
searching  for  the  sources  of  the  Nile,  postponed  the 
revelations  which  he  would  have  made,  until  they  were 
unfolded  by  another  newspaper  correspondent,  H.  M. 
Stanley. 

So  persistent  was  Mr.  Taylor  in  his  purpose  to  travel 
beyond  the  boundaries  of  the  known,  that  he  resolved 
to  go  up  the  White  Nile  alone,  except  a  few  servants. 
He  had  met  Captain  Peele,  whose  accounts  of  the  curi 
osities  to  be  found  farther  inland  made  him  the  more 
anxious  to  get  a  glimpse  beyond.  So  he  hired  a  boat. 


176  LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

and  amid  the  doubts  of  his  servants  and  the 
of  his  new-found  friends,  he  set  sail  up  the  White  Nile. 
He  could  not  hire  the  boatmen  for  a  long  voyage,  as 
they  feared  the  fierce  cannibals  of  the  interior,  and  as 
they  were  going  beyond  the  protection  of  any  military 
force.  Trusting  to  his  persuasive  powers,  he  started 
with  them,  deciding  to  go  just  as  far  as  he  could  get 
them  to  accompany  him. 

On  a  lone  river,  where  no  other  sail  was  to  be  seen ; 
in  a  wilderness,  where  even  the  human  beings  were  as 
the  lions  and  hyenas ;  with  no  friend  of  his  own  race 
near  him,  he  sailed  on,  in  confidence,  never  seeming  to 
think  that  he  might  die  there  alone  and  never  be  heard 
of  by  his  relatives  again.  Crocodiles,  hippopotami, 
and  giraffes  flourished  there,  and  man  was  the  play 
thing  of  both  elements  and  beasts.  Through  the 
wildest  scenery,  among  the  strangest  birds  and  animals, 
he  pursued  his  course,  trembling  night  and  day  lest 
his  crew  should  at  any  moment  refuse  to  go  farther. 

At  last  they  came  to  the  country  of  the  Shillooks. 
That  wild  tribe  of  negroes  was  known  to  the  boatmen 
through  nursery  tales  and  traditional  stories,  wherein 
the  savages  were  given  very  bad  names ;  and  when 
Mr.  Taylor  informed  them  that  he  purposed  to  visit 
the  village  of  those  horrid  man-eaters,  they  regarded 
him  with  looks  of  the  most  profound  astonishment. 
But  with  a  hardihood  that  by  its  boldness  secured  ac 
quiescence,  he  commanded  them  to  row  him  to  the 
banks  of  the  Nile,  where  the  long  rows  of  primitive 


THE    WHITE   NILE.  177 

huts  were  to  be  seen.  Through  captives  and  merchants 
the  kingdom  of  the  Shillooks  had  become  partially 
known,  and  a  kind  of  jargon,  like  the  pigeon-English 
of  the  Chinese,  served  the  purposes  of  communication. 
One  of  Mr.  Taylor's  company  could  talk  with  them 
slightly,  and  with  him  as  an  interpreter,  and  another 
servant  for  a  protector,  he  walked  boldly  into  the  vil 
lage  of  the  savages,  taking  no  weapons,  lest  he  should 
create  suspicion.  But  they  received  him  coldly  and 
with  much  show  of  suspicion  and  treachery.  It  was  a 
most  dangerous  experiment,  and  it  is  a  matter  of  won 
der  that  he  was  allowed  to  depart.  There  were  large 
numbers  of  armed  men  around  him,  brandishing  spears 
and  clubs,  and  demanding  of  him  all  sorts  of  impossible 
presents.  But  with  a  calmness  and  seeming  confidence, 
Mr.  Taylor  smoked  with  the  chief,  and  exchanged 
presents  with  the  subordinate  officials,  until  they 
became  friendly  and  docile,  laying  down  their  weapons 
and  conversing  cheerfully  through  the  interpreter. 
Yet  they  laid  a  plan  for  plundering  the  party,  and 
would  at  the  last  perhaps  have  murdered  the  whole 
crew,  had  not  Mr.  Taylor  most  adroitly  and  coolly 
foiled  them  in  their  designs. 

All  attempts  to  persuade  his  men  to  go  farther  were 
useless.  No  urging,  no  promise  of  gifts,  no  threats 
would  induce  them  to  sail  farther  south,  as  they  bo  • 
lieved  that  it  was  but  a  little  way  to  "  the  end  of  the 
world."  HOWT  eagerly  he  yearned  for  some  chance  to 
explore  the  country  beyond,  he  often  mentioned  ip 


178  LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

after  life.  He  was  at  the  centre  of  a  mighty  conti 
nent.  Locked  and  bolted  it  had  been  for  all  the  ages, 
and  it  appeared  as  if  the  door  was  now  open  and  he  had 
only  to  walk  in  to  discover  its  treasures.  But  alas  ! 
he  could  not  go  on  alone.  He  could  not  swim  the 
length  of  the  river,  nor  find  his  wTay  among  the  ele 
phants  and  lions  of  the  jungle.  The  boat  turned  back 
toward  Khartoum,  and  he  had  no  choice  but  to  return 
with  it. 

However,  he  made  the  most  of  the  trip,  and  fre 
quently  visited  the  shore  and  had  some  very  pleasant 
and  instructive  interviews  with  the  tribes  who  live  in 
that  region.  At  one  place  he  visited  a  village  of  the 
Hassaniyehs,  and  contrary  to  the  experience  of  many 
other  travellers,  he  was  cordially  invited  to  their  circle 
and  treated  with  sincere  hospitality.  He  mentioned 
in  his  book  the  dance  of  welcome  which  the  young 
women  of  the  village  performed  before  him,  and  de 
scribed  with  interesting  detail  their  motions,  features, 
forms,  voices,  and  habits.  Thus,  with  visits  to  sav 
ages,  interviews  with  wild  beasts,  and  exquisite  views 
of  the  wildest  scenery  ever  beheld  by  man,  he  floated 
back  to  the  friends  and  dwellings  of  Khartoum. 

His  stay  in  Khartoum,  on  his  return,  was  brief, 
because  of  the  approaching  sickly  season ;  but  every 
hour  of  his  time,  when  awake,  was  occupied  in  visit 
ing  and  being  visited.  Native  chiefs,  Arab  merchants, 
holy  men  of  the  Moslem  faith,  Catholic  priests,  prin 
cesses,  soldiers,  consuls,  boatmen,  and  tame  lions, 


IN   THE   DESERT.  179 

seemed  equally  at  home  in  his  presence  ;  and  his  stay 
was  a  most  delightful  one  for  all  concerned.  His 
parting  with  his  friends  at  Khartoum  was  akin  to  the 
separation  of  life-long  friends,  or  the  breaking  of  a 
family  circle.  To  him  the  whole  world  was  kin. 

From  Khartoum  he  travelled  in  a  caravan  of  camels, 
chartered  by  him  for  an  escort,  leaving  the  Nile 
and  striking  into  the  desert.  With  camel-drivers 
hard  to  control,  with  a  burning  sun  overhead,  and 
sands  nearly  as  hot  beneath,  he  traversed  the  desert 
unharmed.  Once  he  slept  with  a  deadly  snake  under 
his  blanket,  unconscious  of  his  fearful  danger  until  he 
rolled  up  his  blanket  in  the  morning.  The  open  air, 
the  free  sun,  sleeping  on  the  sand,  and  eating  the 
coarse  food  of  the  natives,  gave  him  a  vigor  and 
healthy  delight  which  inconveniences  and  dangers 
could  not  overcome.  Sometimes  the  heat  was  so 
intense  that  the  skin  of  his  face  peeled  off,  and  once 
or  twice  he  felt  the  effects  of f'  the  desert  intoxication," 
resulting  from  the  monotonous  scene  and  terrible  heat. 
It  was  a  dizzy  sensation,  and  is  often  thought  to  be  a 
symptom  of  dangerous  disease.  Changing  camels 
at  intermediate  stations,  and  visiting  the  ruins  of 
ancient  cities  and  fortresses,  where  he  found  them 
cropping  out  of  the  sand  or  adorning  some  rugged 
mountain,  he  travelled  on  to  Abdom,  Dongola  and 
Wady-IIalfa,  where  he  embarked  in  a  boat  for  As 
souan.  His  parting  with  his  old  dromedary,  and  with 
his  guides,  at  Wady-IIalfa,  is  mentioned  by  him  witb 


180  LIFE    OF   BAYARD    TAYLOR. 

the  same  regret  that  he  experienced  in  leaving  his 
other  friends.  But  his  farewell,  in  Cairo,  to  his  trusted 
servant  Achmet,  who  had  been  his  faithful  companion 
from  Cairo  up  the  Nile  and  back,  drew  tears  from  the 
eyes  of  both. 

His  voyage  from  Wady-Halfa  to  Cairo  was  so  nearly 
like  his  trip  up  the  Nile,  that  for  the  purposes  of  this 
work  it  is  necessary  only  to  say  that  he  visited  many 
scenes  and  many  ruins  which  were  omitted  on  his  way 
up  the  river,  and  refreshed  his  memory  by  a  second 
visit  to  the  most  celebrated  localities.  He  met  many 
travellers,  and  heard  from  civilization  again,  arriving 
in  the  capital  of  Egypt  on  the  first  day  of  April,  1852, 
in  excellent  spirits  and  in  good  health,  save  a  trouble 
some  soreness  of  the  eyes,  caused  by  the  reflection  of 
the  sun  on  the  water.  The  thin  and  frail  body  had 
assumed  a  fullness  and  strength  surprising  to  note,  and 
the  broken  heart  had  so  accustomed  itself  to  its  load  of 
grief  that  the  weight  seemed  lighter  than  at  first. 

On  the  Nile  he  wrote  a  poem  containing  among 
others,  these  expressive  lines  :  — 

"  Mysterious  Flood,  —  that  through  the  silent  sands 

Hast  wandered,  century  on  century, 
Watering  the  length  of  green  Egyptian  lands, 
Which  were  not,  but  for  thee, — " 

"  Thou  gnardest  temple  and  vast  pyramid, 

Where  the  gray  Past  records  its  ancient  speech  : 
But  in  thine  unrevealing  breast  lies  hid 
they  refuse  to  teach,." 


THE   NILE. 

"  What  were  to  thee  the  Osirian  festivals  ? 

Or  Memnon's  music  on  the  Theban  plain  ? 
The  carnage,  when  Cambyses  made  thy  halls 
Ruddy  with  royal  slain  ?  " 

"  In  thy  solemnity,  thine  awful  calm, 

Thy  grand  indifference  of  Destiny, 
My  soul  forgets  its  pain,  and  drinks  the  balm 
Which  thou  dopt  proffer  me." 


181 


182  LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

Departure  from  Egypt.  —  A  Poet  in  Palestine.  —  Difference  in  Trav 
ellers. —  Mr.  Taylor's  Appreciation.  —  First  View  of  Tyie. — 
Route  to  Jerusalem.  —  The  Holy  City.  —  Bath  in  the  Dead  Sea. 
—  Appearance  of  Jerusalem.  —  Samaria.  —  Looking  down  upon 
Damascus.  —  Life  in  the  eldest  City.  —  The  Bath.  —  Dose  of 
Hashish.  —  Being  a  Turk  among  Turks. 

"  The  Poet  came  to  the  Land  of  the  East, 

When  Spring  was  in  the  air : 
The  earth  was  dressed  for  a  wedding  feast, 

So  young  she  seemed,  and  fair  ; 
And  the  poet  knew  the  Land  of  the  East  — 

His  soul  was  native  there. 

All  things  to  him  were  the  visible  forms 

Of  early  and  precious  dreams,  — 
Familiar  visions  that  mocked  his  quest 

Beside  the  Western  streams, 
Or  gleamed  in  the  gold  of  the  clouds,  unrolled 

In  the  sunset's  dying  beams." 

—  Taylor,  1852. 

IF  there  is  any  land  where  every  grain  of  sand  and 
every  blade  of  grass  is  pervaded  by  thrilling  associa 
tions,  that  land  is  Palestine.  Especially  and  peculiarly 
animated  are  its  hills  and  vales  to  a  poet  such  as 
Taylor  proved  to  be.  It  may  be  that  some  superficial 
and  matter-of-fact  people  who  have  visited  the  Holy 
Land  in  the  hot  season,  have  not  felt  the  charm  of 


IN   PALESTINE.  183 

its  sacredness,  owing  to  heat,  barrenness,  vermin, 
and  beggars.  There  may  be  a  small  class  of  icono 
clastic  jokers,  who,  caring  not  how  holy  or  tender  the 
theme,  never  fail  to  use  it  for  ridicule,  if  it  suits  their 
humoristic  purpose.  But  the  large  class  of  travellers 
who  visit  Jerusalem  and  the  country  round  about,  feel 
the  inspiring  presence  of  the  Past,  and  enjoy  in  an  inde 
scribable  fullness  the  associations  connected  with  it. 
In  a  higher  and  nobler  degree,  the  mind  imbued  with 
poetic  images,  a  ready  imagination,  and  a  keen 
discernment  of  beauty  in  landscape  or  history,  will 
avail  itself  of  the  great  opportunities  for  pleasure  and 
profit  which  such  a  land  supplies.  In  this  sense  Mr. 
Taylor  enjoyed  a  great  advantage.  He  made  his 
physical  being  so  subordinate  to  his  mental,  that  no 
fatigue,  no  hunger,  no  thirst,  no  annoyance  from  beg 
gars,  nor  fears  of  robbers,  could  interfere  with  the 
appreciation  of  the  beautiful.  How  greatly  he  enjoyed 
his  visit  to  Palestine,  none  but  intimate  friends  ever 
knew.  In  his  letters,  he  often  gave  way  to  enthusi- 
atic  expressions,  and  in  his  book,  often  gave  very  vivid 
descriptions  of  what  had  been,  as  well  as  that  which 
then  existed.  But  a  fear  of  exaggeration  through 
praise,  and  a  modest  misgiving  lest  his  poetical  fancy 
ghould  not  suit  his  readers,  led  him  to  write  in  a  more 
prosy  vein  than  he  talked.  In  conversation  with 
friends  in  Germany  and  America,  and  often  in  his 
lectures,  after  he  had  finished  his  tours,  he  graphically 
pictured  the  impressive  events  of  the  past  connected 


184  LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

with  Palestine,  which  seemed  to  pass  like  a  panorama 
before  him.  To  him,  such  a  land  would  be  full  of 
interest,  whether  he  trod  its  fields  at  a  time  of  the 
year  when  it  was  luxuriant,  or  at  a  season  when  the 
sun  and  simoon  have  made  it  a  desert.  To  lie  upon 
its  burning  sands  and  dream  of  the  sweltering  hosts 
that  fought  around  the  spot ;  to  bask  in  the  cool  shades 
of  its  olives  and  cedars,  and  think  of  Gethsemane  and 
the  sweets  of  Sharon;  to  stand  on  the  summit  of  the 
Mount  of  Olives,  Carmel,  or  Hermon,  and  realize  the 
almost  overwhelming  fact  that  before  him  were  the 
plains,  hills,  valleys,  conquered  and  reconquered  since 
man  was  made,  and  which  were  peopled  by  the  great, 
the  good,  the  wild,  and  the  bloodthirsty  of  every 
age  ;  to  recognize  the  localities  where  dwelt  or  fought 
the  heroes  of  Holy  Writ ;  to  feel  the  presence  of  the 
King  of  kings  as  "  on  mysterious  wings  "  he  swept 
the  plain  and  shielded  his  people  ;  to  walk  on  the 
very  path  whereon  the  Son  of  God  had  often  placed 
his  feet ;  to  dream  in  the  starlight  of  Apostles,  priests, 
Romans,  Crusaders,  and  Saracens,  was  an  experience 
especially  gratifying  to  him,  and  interesting  to  a 
greater  or  less  degree  to  all  travellers.  The  writer 
recalls,  perhaps  in  an  imperfect  form,  a  verse  which 
Mr.  Taylor  wrote  during  his  stay  in  Palestine,  and 
which  came  to  the  writer  with  singular  force  while 
carelessly  wandering  along  the  valley  between  Jerusa 
lem  and  the  Mount  of  Olives. 


THE   HOLY   LAND.  185 

"  Thy  strength,  Jersualem,  is  o'er, 

And  broken  are  thy  walls  ; 
The  harp  of  Israel  sounds  no  more 

In  thy  deserted  halls  : 
But  where  thy  Kings  and  Prophets  trod, 

Triumphant  over  death, 
Behold  the  living  soul  of  God,  — 

The  Christ  of  Nazareth  ! 
The  halo  of  his  presence  fills 

Thy  courts,  thy  ways  of  men  ; 
His  footsteps  on  thy  holy  hills 

Are  beautiful  as  then  ; 
The  prayer,  whose  bloody  sweat  betrayed 

His  human  agony, 
Still  haunts  the  awful  olive-shade 

Of  old  Gethsemane." 

To  him  the  past  was  real.  He  saw  the  fields  of 
corn,  the  ancient  olive-trees,  the  high  walls,  and  the 
high  towers,  upon  which  the  Saviour  looked.  He 
saw  again  Abraham,  Samuel,  Saul,  David,  Isaiah, 
Jeremiah,  Pilate,  and  their  associates.  He  walked  in 
imagination  in  the  welcoming  crowd  as  they  strewed 
the  branches  along  the  path  from  Bethany  to  Jerusa 
lem.  He  saw  the  council  chamber,  the  cross,  and  the 
ascension.  He  dreamed  of  the  gathering  armies  at 
Antioch  and  Joppa,  whose  banners  at  last  waved  over 
the  palace  of  Godfrey  of  Bouillon  in  Jerusalem.  To 
him  the  gates  of  history  swung  wide  open,  and  he 
wandered  back  through  the  centuries,  meeting  patri 
arch  and  maiden,  shepherd  and  warrior,  prophet  and 
judge,  seer  and  apostle,  in  a  companionship  social  and 
confidential.  It  was  like  long  generations  of  experi- 


186  LIFE   OF   BAYARD   TAYLOK. 

ence  to  walk  those  hallowed  fields  and  realize  the 
wonderful  tales  of  history.  In  this,  as  much  as  in  the 
views  of  the  present,  is  found  the  profit  resulting  from 
travel  in  such  lands.  One  lives  over  the  tales  of 
which  he  has  read,  with  each  locality  serving  as  a 
fresh  reminder  of  the  unnoted  details.  He  is  an  old 
man  in  experience  who  has  travelled  in  the  right  spirit 
over  those  eldest  lands  of  the  world ;  and  few  indeed 
is  the  number  of  tourists  who  can  feel  that  they  have 
done  so. 

Mr.  Taylor,  like  Longfellow,  Tennyson,  and  Scott, 
had  a  gift  of  looking  through  the  present  into  the  past, 
and  held  delightful  communion  with  the  old  days.  Try 
ing,  however,  with  a  laudable  desire  to  instruct  his 
readers,  he  kept  studiously  close  to  the  simple  facts  of 
his  actual  experience,  and  in  his  narrative  seldom 
allowed  himself  to  fall  into  poetical  expressions. 

He  left  Egypt  about  the  middle  of  the  month  of 
April  and  landed  at  Beyrout,  which  was  not  at  that 
time,  nor  since,  a  very  attractive  locality.  It  was 
made  more  unpleasant  to  him  by  an  incarceration  in  a 
kind  of  prison  called  the  "  Quarantine."  But  with  a 
resignation  worthy  of  the  oldest  Turk,  he  made  the 
best  of  his  circumstances,  and  judging  by  the  account 
he  has  given  of  it,  he  had  an  easy,  jolly  time  of  it 
Released  from  the  prison  he  travelled  down  the  shore 
of  the  Mediterranean  to  Tyre,  with  whose  remnant  ho 
seems  to  have  been  deeply  impressed.  The  old  Tyre, 
with  its  fleets,  with  its  enormous  stocks  of  merchan- 


AT  TYRE.  187 

dise,  with  its  lofty  piles  of  cedar  timber,  with  its 
gorgeous  purple  robes,  with  its  bulwarks  and  battle 
ments,  with  its  armed  defenders  and  hosts  of  besieg 
ers,  arose  from  its  crumbled  fragments  and  passed 
through  the  panoramic  changes  which  so  startle  the 
student  of  Syrian  history. 

After  leaving  the  village  which  now  replaces  the 
ancient  city,  he  rode  down  the  sandy  shore  and  com 
posed  a  poem  which  was  afterwards  somewhat  changed, 
but  in  which  was  retained  the  boldness  of  the  waves, 
which  then  beat  at  his  feet. 

"  The  wild  and  windy  morning  is  lit  with  lurid  fire  ; 
The  thundering  surf  of  ocean  beats  on  the  rocks  of  Tyre,  — 
Beats  on  the  fallen  columns  and  round  the  headland  roars, 
And  hurls  its  foamy  volume  along  the  hollow  shores, 
And  calls  with  angry  clamor,  that  speaks  its  long  desire  : 
'  Where  are  the  ships  of  Tarshish,  the  mighty  ships  of  Tyre  ? ' 

Within  her  cunning  harbor,  choked  with  invading  sand, 
No  galleys  bring  their  freightage,  the  spoils  of  every  land, 
And  like  a  prostrate  forest,  when  autumn  gales  have  blown, 
Her  colonnades  of  granite  lie  shattered  and  o'e^thrown  ; 
And  from  the  reef  the  pharos  no  longer  flings  its  fire, 
To  beacon  home  from  Tarshish  the  lordly  ships  of  Tyre." 

"Where  is  the  wealth  of  ages  that  heaped  thy  princely  mart? 
The  pomp  of  purple  trappings ;  the  gems  of  Syrian  art ; 
The  silken  goats  of  Kedar ;  Sabaja's  spicy  store  ; 
The  tributes  of  the  islands  thy  squadrons  homeward  bore, 
When  in  thy  gates  triumphant  they  entered  from  the  sea 
With  sound  of  horn  and  sackbut,  of  harp  and  psaltery." 

"  Though  silent  and  forgotten,  yet  Nature  still  laments 
The  pomp  and  power  departed,  the  lost  magnificence : 


188          LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

The  hills  were  proud  to  see  thee,  and  they  are  sadder  now; 
The  sea  was  proud  to  bear  thee,  and  wears  a  troubled  brow, 
And  evermore  the  surges  chant  forth  their  vain  desire : 
'  Where  are  the  ships  of  Tarshish,  the  mighty  ships  of  Tyre  ?  '  " 

One  of  the  most  sublime  experiences  of  life  is  to 
stand  where  he  stood,  with  the  great  waves  rolling  up 
the  beach  and  shaking  the  earth  with  their  powerful 
surges,  and  with  the  spray  breaking  about  the  dark 
ruins  of  the  ancient  city,  and  there  repeat  the  poem 
from  which  the  above  verses  are  taken.  It  gives 
power  and  life  to  the  words  which  can  never  be  felt  or 
seen  by  those  who  have  never  heard  the  bellowings  or 
felt  the  shocks  of  the  Mediterranean  surf. 

From  Tyre  he  ascended  Mount  Carmel,  and  follow 
ing  the  shore  to  Jaffa,  took  the  usual  route  to  Jerusa 
lem.  It  was  the  most  pleasant  season  of  the  year 
(April),  and  all  vegetation  was  fast  springing  into  its 
bountiful  life.  The  cactus,  orange,  and  pomegranate 
were  in  bloom,  and  all  nature  seemed  in  its  most 
cheerful  moodv  So  like  a  paradise  did  it  look  to  him, 
that  it  was  some  little  time  before  he  could  get  into  that 
frame  of  mind  which  brought  a  realization  that  he  was 
in  that  land  of  great  renown.  But  as  that  thrilling 
moment  arrived  when  he  stepped  upon  the  highest 
plateau  of  the  mountains  near  Jerusalem  and  looked 
with  astonished  eyes  over  the  valley  and  on  the  "  City 
of  our  God  and  the  mountain  of  his  holiness,"  he  felt, 
with  a  sudden  thrill,  that  he  was  in  the  presence  of 
the  Great  and  the  Holy.  With  emotions  that  cannot 


AT    JERUSALEM.  189 

be  described  he   rode   over  those    sacred   fields  and 
entered  the  gates  of  the  city. 

From  Jerusalem  he  made  an  excursion,  by  the  way 
of  Bethany,  to  the  Dead  Sea.  It  was  a  sultry  day, 
and  he  suffered  much  from  the  heat,  having  therein  a 
suggestion  of  the  rain  of  fire  and  brimstone  which 
destroyed  the  cities  whose  ruins  are  supposed  to  be 
petrified  at  the  bottom  of  the  Dead  Sea.  With  his 
usual  hardihood  he  plunged  fearlessly  into  the  bitumi 
nous  waters  of  the  Dead  Sea,  and  seemed  to  enjoy  what 
no  traveller  who  has  since  indulged  in  that  bath  is 
known  to  have  enjoyed,  the  buoyance  of  the  water  and 
the  sensations  caused  by  the  volcanic  materials  held  in 
solution. 

On  his  return  to  the  city  he  remained  for  several 
days  examining  the  sacred  localities  and  contending 
with  the  crowds  of  beggars  and  guides  who  blocked 
the  narrow  and  filthy  streets  of  Jerusalem.  The 
wretchedness,  poverty,  disease,  and  filth  of  the  people 
are  so  prominent  and  so  loathsome,  that  unless  the 
ordinary  traveller  keeps  constantly  on  his  guard,  he 
will  forget  all  the  old  and  holy  associations  in  his  dis 
gust  for  the  city  of  to-day.  It  is  said  that  the  city 
is  less  dirty  and  less  stricken  with  disease  than  it  was 
in  1850.  If  such  be  the  fact,  it  is  a  marvel  indeed  how 
Mr.  Taylor  ever  found  a  fit  place  for  his  Muse,  which 
so  frequently  visited  him  there.  He  seems,  however, 
to  have  been  deeply  interested  in  everything,  having 
about  as  little  faith  in  what  the  guides  told  lum  about 


190  LIFE   OF   BAYARD   TAYLOR. 

the  locality  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre,  Calvary,  Geth- 
semane,  and  the  true  cross,  as  travellers  in  more  mod 
ern  times  appear  to  entertain.  Jerusalem  was  not 
only  all  that  we  have  represented  it  to  be  outwardly, 
but  the  people  would  lie  beyond  the  fables  of  any  other 
people  ;  would  steal  and  would  murder.  To  be  much 
troubled  by  these  facts  would  destroy  the  poetry  of  the 
place,  and  Mr.  Taylor  allowed  none  of  those  things  to 
move  him.  He  wrote  of  the  facts  as  he  found  them, 
uncolored  by  the  imagination,  and  seems  to  have 
flattered  himself  that  he  was  not  as  sentimental  as  the 
travellers  who  had  preceded  him.  If  he  was  so  very 
practical,  whence  such  beautiful  poetry? 

"  Fair  shines  the  moon,  Jerusalem, 

Upon  the  hills  that  wore 
Thy  glory  once,  their  diadem 

Ere  Judah's  reign  was  o'er : 
The  stars  on  hallowed  Olivet 

And  over  Zion  burn, 
But  when  shall  rise  thy  splendor,  set  ? 

Thy  majesty  return  ?  " 

On  the  7th  of  May  he  left  Jerusalem,  in  company 
with  another  traveller  and  the  mule-drivers,  taking  the 
route  by  way  of  Samaria  to  Nazareth  through  a 
country  at  that  season  covered  with  the  richest  and 
freshest  foliage.  Along  the  entire  route  the  tourist 
seldom  passes  out  of  sight  of  broken  columns,  falling 
fortresses,  gray  old  monasteries,  dismal  hermitages, 
and  Roman  masonry.  The  olive  and  fig  trees  shaded 


GOING   TOWARDS    DAMASCUS.  191 

the  path,  and  with  the  wide  fields  of  grain  gave  the 
appearance  of  thrift  and  enterprise.  He  visited  She- 
chem,  where  it  is  said  that  Joseph  was  buried,  and 
aear  which  he  was  thrown  into  the  pit  by  his  brethren. 
There  Mr.  Taylor  saw  Samaritans  of  the  original 
stock,  and  there  he  was  shown  an  anciei."  manuscript 
of  Hebrew  Law,  said  to  be  three  thousand  years  old. 

He  made  a  short  stop  at  Nazareth  and  was  shown 
where  the  mother  of  Christ  had  resided,  the  table 
from  which  Christ  ate,  and  the  school-room  (?)  in 
which  Christ  is  said  to  have  been  taught. 

Going  thence  he  ascended  Mount  Tabor,  as  it  was 
his  custom  to  climb  all  the  mountains  he  could 
reach,  and  then  hastened  on  to  the  Sea  of  Galilee. 
There  he  swam  in  its  crystal  water,  and  visited  the 
Mount  of  Beatitudes,  Joseph's  Well,  and  Magadala, 
the  home  of  Mary  Magdalene.  Passing  Cesarea 
Philippi,  and  crossing  the  anti-Lebanon  range  of 
mountains  in  imminent  danger  of  robbery  and  death 
from  the  rebellious  tribes  of  Druses  which  inhabited 
that  region,  they  came  out  on  the  afternoon  of  May 
19th  in  view  of  the  lovely  city  of  Damascus. 

Mr.  Taylor  made  a  sketch  of  himself  as  he  appeared 
in  his  Eastern  costume,  while  seated  on  an  eminence 
that  afternoon,  overlooking  the  most  ancient  city  in  the 
world.  In  one  of  the  rooms  of  Mr.  Taylor's  lovely 
home  of  Cedarcroft  there  hangs  a  large  painting,  of 
considerable  merit,  and  said  to  be  an  excellent  por 
trait,  which  was  executed  by  a  friend  from  that  sketch. 


192  LIFE  OF  BAYAED  TAYLOR. 

It  represents  Mr.  Taylor  sitting  in  Oriental  posture, 
on  the  mountain-side,  with  the  domes,  minarets,  and 
embowered  walls  of  Damascus  on  the  distant  plain. 
He  always  held  that  painting  to  be  a  treasure,  con 
necting  him,  as  it  did,  with  those  scenes  of  early 
travel,  and  with  the  friend  who  made  the  painting, 
and  with  those  who  admired  it. 

He  was  delighted  with  Damascus.  It  was  placed 
in  the  centre  of  a  plain  whereon  grew  in  the  greatest 
abundance  all  the  fruits  and  all  the  varieties  of  leal 
and  blossom  known  to  the  tropic  zone.  No  other 
spot  yet  explored  can  boast  such  beautiful  trees ;  such 
a  profusion  of  roses  ;  such  blossoms  of  jessamine  and 
pomegranate ;  such  loads  of  walnuts,  figs,  olives,  apri 
cots  ;  such  luxuriant  grasses,  and  such  productive 
fields,  as  that  land  which  has  been  cultivated  by  man 
the  longest.  Nature  has  set  the  crown  upon  Damas 
cus  and  blessed  it  with  a  superabundance  of  vegetable 
life.  But  what  is  given  to  verdure  seems  to  be  taken 
from  humanity,  for,  regarded  as  a  whole,  he  found  the 
people  of  the  city  to  be  a  rather  bad  lot.  Yet  there, 
as  elsewhere,  he  found  agreeable  companions  and 
warm  friends.  He  made  himself  so  much  at  home  that 
he  soon  appeared  like  a  native,  and  all  the  labyrinths  of 
bazars  and  alleys  were  as  familiar  to  him  after  a  few 
days'  stay  as  they  seemed  to  be  to  the  oldest  resident. 
He  liked  their  life  so  well  that  he  soon  learned  to  enjoy 
to  its  full  the  physical  comfort  and  mental  rest  of  the 
Turkish  bath.  He  ever  after  referred  to  the  bath 


AT    DAMASCUS.  193 

at  Damascus  as  the  acme  of  bodily  satisfaction.  The 
fact  that  so  many  travellers  have  been  Disappointed  in 
the  enjoyment  of  the  bath  does  not  show  Mr.  Taylor's 
account  to  be  so  much  overdrawn,  as  it  shows  the  dif 
ference  between  the  pleasure  to  be  derived  from  the 
pastimes  of  any  people  by  those  who  adhere  more  or 
less  to  their  own  tastes  and  customs,  and  those  who, 
like  Mr.  Taylor,  fall  wholly  and  heartily  into  the  ways 
and  thoughts  of  the  native.  When  in  Damascus,  he 
not  only  did  as  they  do  outwardly,  but  he  set  his  mind 
in  the  same  channel,  and  knew  what  it  was  to  be  a 
Turk  in  aspirations  as  well  as  in  dress.  No  other 
traveller  known  to  literature  ever  entered  so  com 
pletely  into  the  experience  and  social  companionship 
of  the  people  whom  he  visited. 

In  order  that  he  might  leave  no  habit  untried  which 
came  within  his  reach,  he  took  a  potion  of  hashish,  to 
test  its  strength  and  effects.  The  drug  did  not  begin 
to  intoxicate  him  quite  as  soon  as  he  expected,  and 
he  doubled  the  dose,  thus  taking  six  times  as  much  as 
would  intoxicate  an  ordinary  Turk.  It  made  him 
terriby  ill ;  and  it  was  almost  miraculous  that  he  sur 
vived  the  shock  to  his  system.  He  did  not  try  the 
strength  of  that  drug  again.  Among  the  friends  he 
made,  and  whose  home  he  visited  at  Damascus,  was  a 
family  of  Maronite  Christians,  who,  eight  years  later, 
were  heinously  butchered  by  the  Moslems  during  the 
great  massacre  following  the  Druses'  and  Marnoites' 
dispute  in  1860, 


194  LIFE    OF   BAYARD    TAYLOR. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

Leaving  Damascus.  —  Arrival  at  Beyrout.  —  Trip  to  Aleppo. —  En> 
ters  Asia  Minor.  — The  Scenery  and  People. — TLe  Hills  of  Leb 
anon.  —  Beautiful  Scenes  about  Brousa.  —  Enters  Constantino 
ple. —  A  Prophesy.  —  Return  to  Smyrna.  —  Again  in  Italy.— 
Visits  his  German  Friend  at  Gotha.  —  The  Home  of  his  Second 
Love.  —  Goes  to  London.  —  Visits  Gibraltar.  —  Cadiz.  — 
Seville.  —Spanish  History. 

"  Upon  the  glittering  pageantries 

Of  gay  Damascus  streets  I  look 
As  idly  as  a  babe,  that  sees 
The  painted  pictures  of  a  book." 

—  Taylor's  Oriental  Idyl. 

FROM  Damascus  Mr.  Taylor  journeyed  to  Baalbec, 
where  are  the  most  imposing  ruins  to  be  found  in 
Syria,  and  where  stand  six  of  the  most  symmetrical 
and  exquisitely  carved  columns  to  be  seen  in  Asia  or 
Europe.  He  described  the  temples  and  fragments  so 
vividly,  that  travellers  who  have  taken  his  "  Lands  of 
the  Saracen  "  for  a  guide  have  seldom  been  disappointed 
or  mistaken  in  their  anticipations,  the  actual  scene 
they  look  upon  being  so  like  the  image  they  formed  in 
their  minds  while  reading  his  description.  The  gift 
of  portraying  through  the  combination  of  words  and 
sentences  an  accurate  picture  of  a  city  existing  in  a 


BAALBEC  AND  LEBANON.  195 

strange  land  and  amid  a  strange  people,  is  a  rare  gift, 
and  the  number  is  very  few  of  those  who  are  found  to 
possess  it.  Mr.  Taylor  was  one  of  those  privileged 
ones.  In  his  description  we  see  the  columns,  cornices, 
pediments,  walls,  platforms,  broken  pillars,  and  falling 
pavilions  as  distinctly  as  they  appear  when  we  after 
wards  look  upon  those  romantic  piles  with  the  natural 
eye.  To  him,  as  to  others,  it  was  a  study  to  deter 
mine,  if  possible,  how  such  enormous  blocks  of  stone, 
sixty-two  feet  long  and  ten  feet  in  diameter,  could 
have  been  transported  and  placed  in  the  buildings. 
Tt  is  beyond  all  the  skill  of  to-day  to  move  nine  thou 
sand  tons  of  stone  in  a  single  block  with  the  conven 
iences  of  that  time. 

From  Baalbec  he  ascended  the  Lebanon  range  of 
mountains,  and  looked  over  the  land  from  the  snowy 
peak  of  one  of  its  lofty  summits.  He  visited  the 
sacred  cedars  Avhich  have  lived  on  the  mountain-side 
for  three  thousand  years,  and  then  rode  on  through 
chasms,  along  cliffs,  and  by  the  sweetest  and  richest 
dells,  until  he  descended  to  the  plain  of  Beyrout. 

His  appreciation  of  the  hills  of  Lebanon  is  more 
clearly  seen  in  his  poetry  than  in  his  prose.  For> 
when  writing  of  them  afterwards,  he  said  :  — 

'  Lebanon,  thou  mount  of  story, 
Well  we  know  thy  sturdy  glory, 

Since  the  days  of  Solomon  j 
Well  me  know  the  Five  old  Cedars, 
Scarred  by  ages,  —  silent  pleaders, 


196  LIFE    OF   BAYARD    TAYLOR. 

Preaching  in  their  gray  sedateness, 
Of  thy  forest's  fallen  greatness, 
Of  the  vessels  of  the  Tyriau 
And  the  palaces  Assyrian 
And  tha  temple  on  Moriah 

To  the  High  and  Holy  One  ! 
Know  the  wealth  of  thy  appointment  — 
Myrrh  and  aloes,  gum  and  ointment ; 
Bat  we  knew  not,  till  wo  clomb  thee, 
Of  the  nectar  dropping  from  thee,  — 
Of  the  pure,  pellucid  Ophir 
In  the  cups  of  vino  d'oro, 

On  the  hills  of  Lebanon  !  " 

In  that  city  he  laid  his  plans  for  the  future,  and 
abandoned  his  purposed  trip  to  the  Euphrates  and 
Tigris.  He  .relinquished  the  design  to  visit  Assyria 
with  great  reluctance,  and  decided  to  pass  through  the 
interior  of  Asia  Minor  to  Constantinople.  Acting 
immediately  upon  this  resolution,  without  an  apparent 
doubt  of  being  able  to  traverse  safely  the  unknown 
interior  of  Asia  Minor,  he  engaged  a  vessel  and  sailed 
up  the  coast  to  the  Orontes  River,  and  thence  to  Aleppo. 
In  that  city,  by  a  ludicrous  mistake,  Mr.  Taylor  and 
his  travelling  companion  were  invited  to  the  house  of 
one  of  the  wealthiest  merchants,  and  were  treated  with 
the  greatest  hospitality  by  the  owner,  who  supposed 
they  were  titled  Englishmen.  But  when  the  mistake 
was  revealed,  Mr.  Taylor  had  become  such  an  agreeable 
visitor  that  his  host  insisted  upon  entertaining  them 
during  their  stay  in  Aleppo.  He  had  been  there  but 
a  few  days  before  he  became  such  a  general  favorite, 


TAURUS   MOUNTAINS.  19? 

that  he  was  invited  to  call  on  the  nobility,  was  urged 
to  attend  feasts,  balls,  and  weddings,  and  when  he  left 
the  city,  the  friendly  regrets  of  hundreds  of  Moslems 
and  Christians  followed  him. 

Leaving  Aleppo  early  in  June,  he  followed  the 
shore  of  the  Mediterranean  around  to  the  plain  of  Issus, 
where  Alexander  the  Great  won  his  great  victory,  and 
thence  to  Tarsus,  the  birthplace  of  the  Apostle  Paul. 
It  may  have  been  "  no  mean  city  "  when  Paul  was  born, 
but  it  was  a  most  insignificant  village  when  Mr.  Tay 
lor  was  there.  But  as  the  magnificent  mountains  of 
the  Taurus  range  loomed  up  along  the  northern  horizon, 
his  attention  was  taken  from  rags,  beggary,  and  ruined 
fortresses,  to  snowy  cliffs,  over  which  he  had  a  passion 
for  clambering. 

Those  persons  who  have  ascended  the  Alps  at  the 
Simplon  pass,  have  a  very  good  idea  of  the  Taurus 
mountains,  and  can  realize  somewhat  of  Mr.  Taylor's 
satisfaction  as  he  rode  up  the  gorges  and  peered  into 
the  deep  valleys.  He  loved  the  mountains  anywhere. 
But  the  Taurus  seemed  then,  in  the  glow  of  his  return 
to  perfect  health  and  with  all  the  profusion  of  nature's 
living  beauties  blooming  about  him,  and  the  eternal 
snows  gleaming  above  him,  to  be  the  most  attractive 
landscape  in  the  world. 

"  0  deep,  exulting  freedom  of  the  hills  ! 
O  summits  vast,  that  to  the  climbing  view, 
In  naked  glory  stand  against  the  blue  ! 
O  cold  and  buoyant,  lir,  whose  crystal  fills 


198  LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

Heaven's  amethystine  bowl !  O  speeding  streams, 

That  foam  and  thunder  from  the  cliffs  below ! 

O  slippery  brinks  and  solitudes  of  snow, 

And  granite  bleakness,  where  the  vulture  screams !  " 

His  visit  to  Konia  (  Iconium  ) ,  the  capital  of  Kara- 
mania,  was  fall  of  little  episodes  and  personal  incidents, 
which  he  told  afterwards  in  print  in  his  own  inimitable 
manner.  But  nothing  of  unusual  moment  occurred 
antil  he  reached  ancient  Phrygia,  where  the  ruins  of 
olden  cities  and  fortresses  interested  him  much.  Their 
history  was  almost  as  unknown  as  the  story  of  the 
temples  of  Yucatan,  and  consequently  had  a  mysterious 
appearance  which  charms  in  a  bewildering  way  the 
study  of  a  poet. 

Riding  on  over  hills  and  mountains,  across  delightful 
streams,  through  fertile  valleys,  associating  with  the 
Turks  on  friendly  terms,  and  studying  their  habits  and 
language,  Mr.  Taylor  pushed  fearlessly  into  the  very 
heart  of  Asia  Minor.  Visiting  Oczani  in  its  debris, 
and  the  valley  of  Rhyndacus,  they  traversed  the  pri 
meval  forests  on  the  Mysian  Olympus,  and  true  to  his 
instincts  he  sought  the  heights  of  Olympus,  twin  moun 
tain,  in  size  and  literature,  with  its  Grecian  namesake. 
From  that  point  to  Brousa,  near  the  Sea  of  Marmora,  it 
was  but  a  day's  journey,  and  seems  to  have  been  the 
most  delightful  ride  of  the.  whole  tour.  Gardens, 
orchards,  grain-fields,  thickets  of  clematis  and  roses, 
patches  of  beech  and  oak  woodland,  and  brilliant  streams 
pleased  the  eye,  while  the  songs  of  birds  and  of  happy 


CONSTANTLYol'LE.  199 

harvesters  charmed  the  ear.  Grand  mountains  pierced 
the  skies,  covered  with  dense  forests,  behind  them,  and 
the  plain  stretched  away  —  a  Garden  of  Eden  —  to 
the  shore  of  a  placid  inland  sea. 

They  entered  Brousa  in  excellent  health  and  spirits, 
having  seen  no  unusual  fatigue  and  been  in  no  great 
danger  during  the  whole  journey  through  a  country 
then  almost  lost  and  unknown  to  the  civilized  world. 

From  Brousa,  the  party  descended  to  the  Sea  of 
Marmora,  and  taking  a  sail-boat  were  wafted  by  the 
Golden  Horn  into  the  interminable  fleets  of  Constan 
tinople.  During  his  stay  in  that  city  he  witnessed  the 
display  of  the  Turkish  holidays,  saw  the  Sultan  on  his 
throne,  entered  the  mosque  of  Saint  Sophia,  ran  to  the 
numerous  conflagrations,  and  unravelled  to  his  satisfac 
tion  some  of  the  social  and  political  problems  con 
nected  with  the  Sultan's  rule  and  the  state  of  popular 
discontent.  He  foretold  a  war  with  Russia,  and  a 
contest  between  the  latter  and  England  over  the  cov 
eted  gem  of  the  East  and  the  gate  to  the  Black  Sea. 
His  predictions  have  already  been  proven  to  be  true, 
showing  an  insight  into  political  affairs  wholly  un- 
looked  for  in  a  young  man,  and  not  to  be  found  in 
such  as  had  travelled  to  less  purpose. 

On  leaving  Constantinople,  he  proceeded  again  to 
Smyrna,  which  place  appeared  to  so  much  better 
advantage  on  his  second  visit  than  it  did  at  his  first, 
that  instead  of  leaving  it,  as  before,  with  anathemas, 
be  celebrated  his  visit  with  a  poem. 


200          LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAILOR . 

"  The  '  Ornament  of  Asia '  and  the  '  Crown 
Of  fair  Ionia.'    Yea,  but  Asia  stands 
No  more  an  empress,  and  Ionia's  hands 
Have  lost  their  sceptre.    Thou,  majestic  town, 
Art  as  a  diamond  on  a  faded  robe." 

The  reader  may  not  need  to  be  again  reminded  of 
Mr.  Taylor's  double  view  of  the  scenes  he  visited,  or 
of  the  fact  that  he  tried  to  give  faithful  pictures  of  the 
present  in  his  prose  and  left  the  ideal  and  fanciful  to 
his  books  of  poetry.  But  to  understand  his  disposi 
tion,  and  correctly  estimate  his  ability,  they  need  to 
be  read  together;  and  hence,  before  taking  leave  of 
Asia  Minor,  we  venture  to  quote  a  verse  from  a  dedi 
cation  to  his  friend  Eichard  H.  Stoddard,  which  we 
have  seen  in  a  volume  of  Mr.  Taylor's  poems. 

"  O  Friend,  were  you  but  couched  on  Tmolus'  side, 
In  the  warm  myrtles,  in  the  golden  air 
Of  the  declining  day,  which  half  lays  bare, 

Half  drapes,  the  silent  mountains  and  the  wide 

Embosomed  vale,  that  wanders  to  the  sea ; 
And  the  far  sea,  with  doubtful  specks  of  sail, 

And  farthest  isles,  that  slumber  tranquilly 
Beneath  the  Ionian  autumn's  violet  veil ;  — 

Were  you  but  with  me,  little  were  the  need 
Of  this  imperfect  artifice  of  rhyme, 
Where  the  strong  Fancy  peals  a  broken  chime 

And  the  ripe  brain  but  sheds  abortive  seed. 

But  I  am  solitary,  and  the  curse, 
Or  blessing,  which  has  clung  to  me  from  birth  — 

The  torment  and  the  ecstasy  of  verse  — 
Comes  up  to  me  from  the  illustrious  earth 

Of  ancient  Tmolus ;  and  the  very  stones, 


VISITS   GOTflA.  201 

Reverberant,  din  the  mellow  air  with  tones 
Which  the  sweet  air  remembers  ;  and  they  blend 
With  fainter  echoes,  which  the  mountains  fling 
From  far  oracular  caverns  :  so,  my  Friend, 
I  cannot  choose  but  sing." 

At  Constantinople  Mr.  Taylor  heard  of  the  action 
which  had  been  taken  by  the  United  States,  looking  to 
the  opening  of  the  ports  of  Japan  to  the  commerce  of 
America.  He  heard  that  a  squadron  was  to  leave  the 
United  States  in  November,  under  the  command  of 
Commodore  Perry,  and  he  formed  the  resolution  to 
connect  himself  with  the  expedition,  if  possible.  To 
that  end  he  wrote  to  his  friends  and  employers  in  New 
York,  asking  them  to  obtain  permission  for  him  to  join 
the  fleet.  Not  knowing  just  when  the  expedition 
would  sail,  nor  at  what  ports  it  would  stop  on  its  way 
to  Japan,  he  anxiously  watched  for  information,  and 
inquired  at  every  place  where  information  was  likely 
to  be  found. 

He  was  determined  to  visit  Spain  before  he  went  to 
China  and  Japan,  and  was  equally  resolved  to  visit 
the  home  of  his  German  travelling  companion  who 
ascended  the  Nile  with  him,  and  who  had  sent  press 
ing  invitations  to  him  to  come  to  Gotha. 

The  business  details  connected  with  his  finances  and 
outfit  for  Spain  and  China  also  called  him  to  London, 
and  arranging  his  tour  so  as  to  accomplish  these 
diverse  ends  he  visited  Malta,  where  he  was  delayed 
ten  days,  and  then  sailed  to  Sicily,  where  he  witnessed 


202  UFK  OP  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

the  Catanian  centennial  festival  in  honor  of  St. 
Agatha,  and  where  he  beheld  the  awful  spectacle  of 
^Etna  in  eruption.  From  Sicily  he  sailed  up  the  coast 
to  that  Naples  which,  as  a  wayfarer  in  Rome  seven 
years  before,  he  had  so  much  longed  to  see,  and  filled 
his  letters  with  praises  of  its  beautiful  bay  and  charm 
ing  circle  of  mountain,  city,  town,  cliffs,  and  islands. 
Without  changing  steamers  he  proceeded  to  Leghorn, 
and  going  to  Florence  experienced  that  delight  of  all 
delights,  —  in  Florence  a  second  time.  Feeling  that 
his  time  was  limited,  and  "  drawn  by  an  unseen  influ 
ence,"  he  hastened  on  to  Venice,  and  thence  through 
the  regions  of  the  Austrian  Tyrol  to  Munich  and 
Gotha. 

Gladsome  days  at  Gotha  !  Was  it  not  the  country 
of  his  beloved  friend?  Was  it  not  the  home  of  his 
friend's  niece,  Marid  Hansen?  The  daughter  of  the 
great  astronomer,  Peter  Andreas-  Hansen,  was  a  worthy 
child  of  a  noble  sire.  Mr.  Taylor  had  listened  to  her 
praises,  but  had  hardly  hoped  to  meet  her. 

"  Now  the  night  is  overpast, 

And  the  mist  is  cleared  away  : 
On  my  barren  life  at  last 
Breaks  the  bright,  reluctant  day." 

"  Quick,  fiery  thrills,  which  only  are  not  pangs 
Because  so  warm  and  welcome,  pierce  my  frame, 
As  were  its  airy  substance,  suddenly 
Clothed  on  with  flesh  ;  the  ichor  Jn  my  veins 
Begins  to  redden  with  the  pulse  of  blood. 


FROM    GOTTIA    TO    SPAIN". 

And,  from  the  recognition  of  the  eyes 
That  now  behold  me,  something  I  receive 
Of  man's  incarnate  beauty.    Thou,  as  well 
Confessest  this  bright  change :  across  thy  cheeks 
A  faintest  wild-rose  color  comes  and  goes, 
And,  on  thy  proud  lips,  Phyra,  sits  a  flame! 
Oh,  we  are  nearer  !  —  not  suffice  me  now 
The  touch  of  marble  hands,  reliance  cold, 
And  destiny's  pale  promises  of  love  ; 
But,  clasping  thee  as  mortal  passion  clasps 
Bosom  to  Bosom,  let  my  being  thus 
Assure  itself,  and  thine." 

— Taylor's  Deukallon. 

After  a  few  weeks  spent  in  and  about  that  pleasant 
city,  to  which  he  was  destined  to  return  and  claim  his 
bride,  and  in  which  he  was  to  pass  many  of  the  sweet 
est  days  of  his  life,  he  journeyed  to  London.  There 
he  made  his  arrangements  for  a  trip  into  China,  and 
hastened  away  to  Gibraltar. 

On  the  6th  of  November  he  left  the  great  rock  and 
took  passage  in  a  steamer  for  Cadiz,  in  Spain.  There 
he  walked  the  streets  three  thousand  years  old,  and 
wherein,  it  is  said,  that  Hercules  strode.  Yet  there  is 
but  little  now  to  be  seen  that  would  remind  one  of  an 
tiquity.  He  noticed,  however,  the  beautiful  and  graceful 
women.  From  Cadiz  he  went  by  boat  up  the  Guad- 
alquiver  Itivcr  to  the  pretty  town  of  Seville.  There 
were  the  old  Moorish  houses  ;  there  the  massive  Cathe 
dral  ;  there  the  Saracenic  palace  of  Alcazar,  with,  all 
its  porches,  galleries,  arches,  and  sculptures  :  there 
was  the  palace  called  Pilate's  House,  with  its  decora- 


204  LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

tions  from  Arabia,  and  inscriptions  from  the  Koran ; 
and  there  was  the  museum  containing  Murillo's  best 
paintings. 

But  it  requires  only  a  short  time  to  visit  all  the 
attractions  of  Seville,  and  Mr.  Taylor  soon  proceeded 
to  Granada.  In  nearly  all  the  cities  which  he  visited 
he  was  reminded,  directly  or  indirectly,  of  the  visit  of 
his  friend,  Washington  Irving.  He  found  the  same 
guides,  or  lodged  at  the  same  hotel,  or  visited  some 
celebrated  locality  of  which  Irving  had  written. 

In  Granada  was  the  celebrated  fortress  of  Alham- 
bra,  which  was  captured  from  the  Moors  by  the  troops 
of  Ferdinand  and  Isabella  the  same  year  that  Colum 
bus  discovered  America ;  there  was  the  palace  of 
Charles  V.  ;  there  the  Carthusian  convent,  the  Monas 
tery  of  St.  Geronimo,  and  there  the  cathedral  with  the 
remains  of  Ferdinand  and  Isabella.  He  made  a  hasty 
trip  to  Cordova  and  its  ancient  Moslem  mosque. 
Then,  visiting  Albania,  Malaga,  and  Ronda,  he  returned 
hastily  to  Gibraltar  and  examined  the  renowned  fort 
ress,  said  to  be  the  strongest  citadel  in  the  world. 

In  that  somewhat  hasty  view  of  Southern  Spain  he 
obtained  much  valuable  information  and  an  experience 
which  often  served  him  in  his  literary  work  as  a 
writer  for  the  public  press.  Southern  Spain  and 
Southern  France,  next  to  Rome  itself,  are  replete  with 
warlike  and  romantic  associations.  Gauls,  Romans, 
Moors,  and  Spaniards,  have  made  nearly  every  plain  a 
battle-field  ;  and  the  toppling  walls  of  the  ancient  tow- 


SOUTHERN    SPAIN.  205 

ers  and  palaces  tell  of  the  fiercest  contests,  the  most 
terrible  inquisitions,  and  the  narrowest  of  narrow 
escapes.  Song  and  story  in  prose  and  rhyme  have 
combined  in  every  form  to  make  the  land  attractive, 
and  it  is  a  matter  of  deep  regret  that  Mr.  Taylor,  who 
was  so  capable  of  developing  all  these  characteristics, 
had  not  more  time  in  which  to  visit  them  and  write 
out  his  experience. 


201)  LIFE    OF    BAYARD    TAYLOU. 


CHAPTER  XXIL 

Leaves  Gibraltar  for  Alexandria.  —  Egypt  and  Old  Friends.  —  The 
Town  of  Suez.  —  Embarks  for  Bombay.  —  Mocha  and  its  Cof 
fee.  — Aden.  —  Arrival  in  Bombay.  —  Reception  by  the  People.  — 
Trip  to  Elephanta.  —  Ride  into  the  Interior.  —  Difficulties  of 
the  Journey.  —  Views  of  Agra.  —  Scenes  about  Delhi.  —  Starts 
for  the  Himalaya  Mountains. 

"  Where  is  Guliatan,  the  Land  of  Roses  I 
Not  on  hills,  where  Northern  winters 
Break  their  spears  in  icy  splinters, 
And  in  shrouded  snow  the  world  reposes ; 
But  amid  the  glow  and  splendor, 
Which  the  Orient  summers  lend  her, 
Blue  the  heaven  above  her  beauty  closes: 
There  is  Gulistan,  the  Land  of  Roses. 

Northward  stand  the  Persian  mountains ; 
Southward  spring  the  silver  fountains, 
Which  to  Hafiz  taught  his  sweetest  measures. 
Clearly  ringing  to  the  singing, 
Which  the  nightingales  delight  in, 
When  the  Spring,  from  Oman  winging 
Unto  Shiraz,  showers  her  fragrant  treasures 
On  the  land,  till  valleys  brighten." 

—  Taylor. 

BY  far  the  most  interesting  and  valuable  part  of  Mr. 
Taylor's  experience  as  a  traveller  was  in  India,  China, 
and  Japan,  if  we  consider  only  the  welfare  of  his 
readers.  But  so  far  as  its  influence  upon  him  was 


STARTS    FOll    INDIA.  207 

concerned,   its  impression   was  far  less  marked  than 
that  in  Europe  and  Egypt.     At  the  time  he  left  Gibral 
tar  for  Egypt,  the  lands  of  India,  China,   and   Japan 
were  comparatively  little  known  to  the  reading  commu 
nities  in  America.     Even  India,   which  had  so   long 
been  the  idol  of  England  and  the  El  Dorado  for  all  her 
adventurous  spirits  and  valorous  soldiers,  was  a  coun 
try  with  which  America  had  but  little  communication 
and  in  whose  people  Americans  took  but  little  interest 
It  was  a  neglected  field. 

Mr.  Taylor,  in  a  letter  to  a  friend  in  Washington, 
laid  much  stress  upon  the  importance  to  American 
commerce  of  an  accurate  description  of  those  lands, 
and  hoped  to  be  the  instrument  by  which  an  interest 
in  such  enterprises  might  be  awakened.  It  was  a 
laudable,  patriotic  purpose,  and  was  most  conscien 
tiously  carried  out  by  him. 

He  left  Gibraltar  on  the  28th  of  November,  on  a 
Peninsular  and  Oriental  steamer,  which  touched  at  that 
port,  on  its  way  from  Southampton  to  Alexandria.  He 
arrived  at  Alexandria  December  8,  and  sought  his  old 
quarters  in  the  city.  He  felt  like  one  who  returns  to 
his  home,  as  he  walked  the  streets  of  the  Egyptian 
city,  and  relates  with  evident  satisfaction  how  pleasant 
it  was  to  call  out  to  the  crowd  of  donkey-drivers  in 
their  native  tongue. 

But  his  visit  to  Cairo  gave  him  the  keenest  delight, 
as  there  he  saw  many  familiar  faces,  and  was  greeted 
with  many  welcoming  smiles.  He  was  especially  de- 


208  LIFE    OF   BAYARD   TAYLOR. 


lighted  to  meet  his  faithful  dragoman,  Achmet,  who 
had  been  his  companion  on  his  trip  to  the  White  Nile, 
and  the  happiness  of  the  Egyptian  on  seeing  his  old 
employer  told  very  impressively  the  power  and  virtue 
of  Mr.  Taylor's  character.  Men  were  faithful  to  him 
because  he  had  faith  in  them.  They  loved  him  because 
he  understood  and  appreciated  them.  Even  the  little 
donkey-boy  on  whose  animal  Mr.  Taylor  had  rode  a 
year  before  in  one  of  his  reckless  canters  through  the 
bazaars,  remembered  him  and  offered  to  let  him  ride 
again  without  pay  —  an  act  unheard  of  by  other  trav 
ellers  there.  It  could  not  be  otherwise  than  sweet  to 
travel  in  any  land  where  the  people  were  friends  and 
where  the  wanderer  was  regarded  in  the  light  of  an 
especially  intelligent  relative. 

At  that  date  there  were  no  railroads  in  Egypt, 
although  one  was  projected,  and  Mr.  Taylor  was  com 
pelled,  in  common  with  the  crowd  of  other  travellers, 
to  ride  in  a  cart,  eighty-four  miles,  through  the  sandy 
desert,  to  Suez.  The  latter  town  was  then,  according 
to  Mr.  Taylor's  account,  a  small,  dirty,  insignificant 
place.  But  the  writer,  who  visited  the  place  after  a 
visit  to  Japan,  China,  and  India,  in  1870,  found  a  very 
prosperous  town,  with  excellent  hotel  accommodations. 
The  bazaar  was  large  and  stocked  with  an  immense 
quantity  of  goods  from  all  parts  of  the  civilized  world. 
It  has  doubtless  grown  much  since  the  work  was  begun 
on  the  Suez  Canal,  and  since  the  harbor  has  been 
dredged  and  the  wharves  constructed. 


THE    RED   SEA.  209 

His  stay  in  Suez  was,  however,  very  brief,  as  the 
Mediterranean  steamer  had  arrived  much  behind  time, 
and  consequently  all  were  hurried  on  board  the  little 
tug,  and  soon  walked  the  deck  of  an  India  steamer. 

They  were  on  the  Red  Sea !  Now  that  its  barren, 
sandy  shores,  the  home  of  the  pelican  and  ostrich, 
have  become  so  familiar  to  tourists,  and  its  glaring 
surface  been  so  often  mentioned  by  correspondents, 
there  is  less  romance  about  a  voyage  from  Suez  to 
Aden  than  in  that  comparatively  early  day  when  Mr. 
Taylor  visited  the  locality.  There  was  the  rugged 
pass  on  the  west,  through  which  the  pillar  of  fire  led 
the  escaping  Jews  to  the  shore,  and  there  was  the 
beach  and  highlands  on  the  east,  up  which  they 
marched  dry-shod  from  the  bed  of  the  sea,  while  the 
waves  rolled  in  on  the  hosts  of  Pharaoh.  There  was 
the  hill  on  which  Miriam  sang  so  exultingly ;  and 
beyond,  the  hot  peaks  of  the  Sinaitic  Wilderness. 
Somewhere  in  the  vicinity  of  that  sea  resided  the 
Queen  of  Sheba ;  and  not  far  from  its  shores  were 
the  forgotten  mines  of  ancient  Ophir. 

But  Mr.  Taylor  felt  now  that  a  patriotic  duty  rested 
upon  him,  and  avoiding  the  delicious  flights  of  fancy 
which  pleased  him  so  much  in  Europe,  he  devoted 
himself  to  the  practical  things  which  might  be  of 
advantage  to  his  ambitious  countrymen.  So  he  told 
about  the  sailors  who  were  employed  on  the  steamer, 
where  Hindoos  did  all  the  drudgery  and  Chinamen 
prepared  the  food,  under  the  direction  of  Europeans. 


210  LIFE    OF    BAi'AUD    TAYLOR. 

He  described  the  character  of  the  passengers,  telling 
where  each  came  from  and  where  they  were  going. 
How  he  ascertained  these  facts  is  an  enigma ;  but  they 
were  important  to  commercial  people  who  would  com 
pete  with  the  established  lines,  and  who  would  like  to 
know  whom  to  employ  and  who  would  be  their  pa 
trons.  There  were  physicians,  soldiers,  officers,  mer 
chants,  and  health-seekers,  from  each  of  whom  Mr. 
Taylor  managed  to  gain  much  information.  He  did 
not  wait,  like  the  fashionable  tourist  of  this  day,  until 
he  arrived  at  his  destination,  trusting  to  luck  for  infor 
mation  and  accommodation.  He  closely  studied  the 
country  before  he  arrived  there,  and  frequently  aston 
ished  his  guides  and  native  companions  by  showing  a 
much  more  accurate  and  extensive  knowledge  of  their 
country  than  they  possessed  who  had  lived  there  all 
their  lives. 

He  mentioned  the  hot  red  hills  and  the  furnace-like 
surface  of  the  sea,  saying  that  one  part  of  the  Red  Sea 
was  the  hottest  part  of  the  earth's  surface.  But  he 
appears  to  have  suffered  less  than  he  had  in  the  desert, 
and  was  quite  happy  with  his  biscuit  and  claret,  and 
lost  no  time  with  useless  fans. 

He  saw  Mocha  from  the  deck  of  the  steamer,  and 
immediately  set  about  ascertaining  what  advantages 
*:hat  port  and  town  offered  to  commerce.  Without 
leering  the  deck  he  found  persons  who  knew  all  about 
Arabia  and  its  products  ;  so  he  sits  down  and  writes  a 
letter  about  coffee  and  its  culture  in  and  about  Mocha. 


AT    ADEN.  211 

He  was  such  a  devoted  lover  of  coffee  that  it  may  have 
been  a  peculiarly  interesting  topic  to  him.  At  all 
events,  he  wrote  so  intelligently  that  an  old  school 
mate,  who  was  engaged  in  foreign  trade,  acted  profitably 
on  Mr.  Taylor's  hints  and  started  a  son  in  the  coffee- 
trade  at  Baltimore.  Mr.  Taylor  stated  in  his  letter  that 
fifteen  thousand  tons  of  coffee  were  exported  annually 
from  Mocha,  it  being  raised  in  the  interior  and  brought 
to  Mocha  on  camels.  He  said  that  foreign  vessels 
could  best  load  at  Aden,  the  English  stronghold  on 
the  south-west  coast  of  Arabia,  to  which  port  the  native 
coasting  vessels  carried  nearly  all  the  exports  of  Mocha 
and  of  the  other  small  ports  along  the  Red  Sea.  He 
also  gave  the  information  that  equally  good  coffee 
could  be  obtained  on  the  Abyssinian  coast,  and  at  a 
smaller  price. 

He  entered  the  port  of  Aden  in  the  night,  and  was 
startled  to  look  out  on  the  port  in  the  morning  and  see 
such  jagged  masses  of  black  rock  shooting  up  from 
the  sand  one  thousand  five  hundred  feet.  It  is  another 
Gibraltar,  and  shrewdly  has  England  held  by  diplo 
macy  what  she  obtained  by  such  a  show  of  force.  But 
the  heat  from  the  sand  and  barren  rocks  is  so  intense 
that  the  quivers  of  a  heated  atmosphere  are  always 
visible,  and  very  injurious  to  the  eyes.  At  the  time 
of  Mr.  Taylor's  visit,  the  town  and  the  harbor  were 
wretched  and  dangerous ;  but  in  1870  the  writer 
found  a  neat  village,  with  good  hotels,  and  a  spacious 
wharf.  Mr.  Taylor  saw  the  advantages  of  the  port 


212  LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

and  predicted  its  growth.  He  mentioned  the  form, 
features,  and  dispositions  of  the  Arabians ;  and  told 
what  interest  the  Parsces  and  Hindoos  took  in  the 
local  trade.  He  mentioned  the  articles  of  commerce 
to  be  found  there,  and  gave  the  prices. 

There  is  not  to  be  found  in  his  letters  to  the 
"Tribune,"  nor  in  his  book,  "India,  China,  and 
Japan,"  any  mention  of  his  sensations  when  he  saw, 
as  he  did  at  Aden,  a  fire-worshipper  (Parsee)  for  the 
first  time.  Being  a  poet  by  nature,  and  an  admirer  of 
Moore,  he  must  have  been  fascinated  by  the  actual 
presence  of  a  Gheber  with  whom  he  could  converse, 
and  with  whom  he  could  change  English  money  into 
the  coin  of  the  country.  How  "Lalla  Rookh  "  comes 
to  the  tongue's  end  when  we  look  a  fire-worshipper  in 
the  face  and  recognize  the  picture  Moore  had  given  of 
him ! 

At  Aden  Mr.  Taylor  witnessed  an  incident  which, 
to  one  so  broadly  charitable  and  Christian,  must  have 
been  most  revolting.  One  of  the  workmen,  who  had 
been  loading  the  steamer  with  coal,  was  asleep  in  the 
hold  when  the  vessel  started,  and  the  officers  finding 
him  aboard  after  they  had  put  to  sea,  forced  the  poor 
native  overboard  and  left  him  to  float  ashore  with  the 
tide  or  perish  in  the  waves.  He  whose  land  was 
the  world,  whose  brethren  were  all  mankind,  whose 
friends  were  the  humblest  heathen  as  well  as  the  titled 
official,  looked  back  at  the  dark  speck  on  the  waves, 
and  tears  filled  his  eyes. 


AT   BOMBAY.  213 

From  Aden,  the  steamer  entered  upon  its  trip  across 
the  Indian  Ocean,  which  was  true  to  its  reputation,  and 
was  placid  and  peaceful  as  an  inland  lake.  But  the  slow 
steamer  took  nine  days  to  sail  from  Suez  to  Bombay  ; 
and  by  the  time  Mr.  Taylor  was  brought  into  view  of 
the  mountains  where  Brahma  and  Vishnu  had  so  long 
been  worshipped,  he  had  become  acquainted  with 
nearly  all  the  Hindoo  sailors,  and  could  secure  unusual 
attendance  from  the  waiters  by  addressing  them  in  the 
Hindustanee  language.  He  had  learned  the  names  of 
the  principal  streets  of  Bombay,  the  names  of  the 
richest  merchants,  and  the  kind  of  fare  to  be  expected 
at  the  hotels.  So  naturally  did  he  fall  into  the  ways 
of  the  people  that  the  boatmen  who  took  him  ashore 
at  Bombay  mistook  him  for  an  old  resident  and  carried 
him  ashore  for  one  rupee,  while  charging  the  other  pas 
sengers  three.  He  seated  himself,  or  rather  stretched 
himself,  into  a  palanquin  carried  by  four  men,  —  one  at 
each  end  of  a  long  pole, — and  like  a  native  rode  through 
the  streets  of  Bombay  on  the  necks  of  servants.  But 
he  did  not  enjoy  that  kind  of  conveyance  ;  he  had  too 
much  sympathy  with  the  human  race  to  impose  his 
weight  on  the  necks  of  human  beings  without  misgiv 
ing,  and  he  afterwards  refused  to  be  carried  about  in 
that  way  when  mules  were  to  be  had. 

At  Bombay,  he  was  received  with  the  same  good 
will  and  hospitality  as  he  had  found  in  other  lands. 
Parsees,  Hindoos,  English,  and  Arabians  vied  with 
each  other  in  giving  him  kindly  attentions ;  the  peo- 


214  LIFE    OF    BAYARD    TAYLOH. 

pie  were  pagan  hi  religion,  but  Christian  in  generosity 
and  charity.  It  broadens  one's  ideas  of  theology  to  be 
thrown  into  communion  with  so  many  different  nations 
with  as  many  different  gods.  But  its  tendency  is  to 
confirm,  rather  than  to  unsettle,  the  belief  in  the 
Christian  doctrines.  At  all  events,  such  was  Mr.  Tay 
lor's  experience  ;  and  such  has  been  the  effect  upon 
others. 

He  found  the  common  people  very  servile,  and  lack 
ing  in  spirit,  and  attributed  it  to  the  long  despotism. 
But  in  them  he  found  faithful  friends,  and  learned  to 
respect  them.  They  were  nearly  all  pagans  when  he 
was  there,  and  worshipped  their  huge  red  idols  with  a 
sincerity  and  self-sacrifice  worthy  of  the  highest  pro 
fession.  In  order  to  learn  something  of  India  in  those 
remote  ages  beyond  the  testimony  of  history,  and  even 
back  of  the  age  of  tradition,  he  visaed  the  old  temple 
on  the  island  of  Elephanta,  about  seven  miles  from 
Bombay.  The  massive  structure,  in  partial  ruin,  so 
wonderfully  wrought  and  massively  constructed,  made 
a  deep  impression  upon  his  mind.  Far,  far  back  in  the 
uncounted  ages,  the  foundations  were  laid  by  men  who 
were  not  low  in  the  scale  of  civilization,  if  an  idea  of 
the  beautiful  and  the  ability  to  embody  it  in  forms  of 
stone  be  a  test  of  enlightenment ;  it  stands  to-day, 
defying  time,  as  it  has  defied  earthquakes  and  cannon- 
shot.  Into  the  fathomless  future  will  it  pass,  an 
immovable  monument  of  the  skill  and  art  of  man  in 
the  childhood  of  human  experience.  In  the  statuary 


ELEPHANT A.  215 

Mr.  Taylor  found  a  strange  resemblance  to  the  three 
ages  of  art ;  the  statue  of  Brahma  representing  the 
style  of  the  Egyptian,  Vishnu  being  represented  in  a 
form  and  carving  of  the  Greek  style,  while  Siva  was 
cut  from  the  stone  in  such  a  shape  as  to  remind  him  of 
the  Mephistopheles  of  the  German  school  of  sculpture. 

His  keen  scrutiny  also  developed  the  theory  that 
the  pillars  were  rough  copies  of  the  poppj^-stem  and 
the  lotus-leaf.  The  latter  was  the  emblem  of  sanctity 
in  the  days  of  Brahma.  Mr.  Taylor's  suggestion  has 
been  attractively  enlarged  upon  and  illustrated  within 
a  few  years  by  writers  for  English  literary  and  art 
periodicals. 

No  excursion  from  Bombay  exceeds  that  to  Ele- 
phanta  in  romantic  attractions ;  for  there  are  not  only 
extensive  ruins  of  greater  and  lesser  temples,  but  the 
landscape,  wherein  the  greenest  islands  dot  the  sheen 
of  a  gorgeous  bay,  is  bright  with  most  beautiful  flow 
ers  and  bright  leaves,  and  the  air  is  permeated  with 
the  odor  of  roses  and  cassia.  Soon  Elephanta  will  be 
a  "  summer  resort,"  and  Taylor's  description  and  reflec 
tions  will  be  sold  by  newsboys  as  a  guide-book* 

At  Bombay  he  visited  the  large  mercantile  establish 
ments  and  investigated  the  prospects  of  trade  ;  saw  the 
people  in  their  homes,  at  meals,  prayers,  marriages,  and 
funerals,  and  studied  the  work  of  the  carpenters  in  that 
celebrated  shipyard  where  was  constructed  the  man- 
of-war  wherein  the  Star-Spangled  Banner  was  written. 
He  knew  all  about  the  city  as  it  was  when  he  saw  it, 


216  LIFE    OF    BAYABD    TAYLO&. 

and  as  it  had  been  from  its  Portuguese  beginning; 
and  yet  he  remained  but  a  single  week.  Who  was  the 
simpleton  that  circulated  an  unauthorized  statement 
that  Mr.  Taylor  travelled  far  and  saw  little  ?  In  fact, 
he  knew  more  of  the  needs  and  enterprise  of  Bombay 
than  many  old  residents. 

In  his  haste  to  see  as  much  of  India  as  possible,  and 
yet  arrive  in  China  in  season  to  join  Commodore  Per 
ry's  expedition  to  Japan,  he  determined  to  ride  in  one 
of  the  mail  carts  of  India  a  distance  of  nearly  four 
hundred  miles.  His  new  friends  advised  him  not  to 
attempt  the  journey,  and  entertained  him  with  the 
deeds  of  assassins  and  robbers  along  the  route,  and 
the  results  of  the  fatiguing  ride  of  seven  days  and 
nights  in  a  two-wheeled  vehicle  without  springs  or 
mattresses.  But  his  mind  was  made  up  to  go,  and  go 
he  would.  So,  regardless  of  warnings  and  advice,  he 
started  into  the  interior  in  a  cart  with  a  driver  and  the 
"Royal  Mail."  The  traveller  who  now  lounges  in  the 
luxuriant  carriages  of  the  railway  trains  between 
Bombay  and  Calcutta,  can  have  no  idea  of  the  trials 
of  such  a  journey  as  Mr.  Taylor  undertook.  Then, 
there  were  no  railroads,  no  regular  stages,  even ; 
nothing  but  lumbering  carts  drawn  by  oxen  and 
decrepit  old  horses.  But  he  endured  the  fatigue  with 
his  usual  fortitude  and  good  fortune,  while  his  already 
remarkable  experience  among  hospitable  people  was 
repeated  there  in  a  most  praiseworthy  style.  Friends, 
friends,  everywhere !  Men  divided  their  meals  and 


IN   INDIA.  21? 

beds  with  him.  People  with  whom  he  could  converse 
by  signs  only,  gave  him  food  and  pressed  themselves 
into  his  service,  and  would  take  no  pay.  In  one 
place  a  soldier  sat  up  all  night  to  give  the  weary  trav 
eller  his  bed.  Surely,  the  essence  of  human  kindness 
and  charity  is  not  confined  to  Christian  lands  ! 

Through  jungles,  where  there  was  not  a  single  path  ; 
along  highways,  crowded  with  innumerable  carts ; 
riding  in  wildernesses,  where  water  was  scarce,  and 
food  not  to  be  found ;  in  every  kind  of  vehicle  known 
to  the  primitive  people,  from  a  horse  chaise  to  a  bul 
lock-cart  ;  surrounded  by  miasmatic  marshes,  and  the 
lairs  of  tigers,  he  hurried  on  toward  Delhi. 

On  his  way  he  made  a  short  stop  at  Agra  and 
Futtehpoor-Sikra,  where  stand  some  of  the  mightiest 
and  most  costly  temples  which  have  been  reared  since 
the  beginning  of  the  Christian  era.  It  well  repays 
years  of  work  and  economy  to  wander  among  the 
palaces,  mosques,  and  mausoleums  of  those  great  cities. 
No  palace  in  all  the  world  can  be  found  to  equal  that  of 
Akbar,  the  great  Mogul,  at  Agra.  When  Mr.  Taylor 
visited  the  city,  nearly  all  the  rubbish,  made  by  wars 
and  sieges,  had  been  cleared  away,  and  the  scarred 
walls  and  marred  mosaics  had  been  restored,  so  that 
he  stood  under  mighty  domes,  amid  all  the  splendor 
of  the  East.  No  one  can  imagine  its  beauty  and 
grandeur,  unless  he  has  seen  it.  Such  lofty  arches ! 
such  masses  of  pure  white  marble  !  such  a  profusion 
of  pearl,  jasper,  cornelian,  agate,  and  many  stones  of 


218  LIFE    OF    I5AYAIM)    TAYLOR. 

greater  beauty  and  value  !  Sueli  exquisite  carvings, 
such  lovely  mosaics,  such  labyrinths  of  inwrought 
balustrades  and  porticos !  Such  tombs,  so  rich,  so 
beautiful,  so  great,  that  the  tomb  of  Napoleon  in  Paris 
is  lost  in  comparison  ! 

Mr.  Taylor  was  delighted  beyond  measure  by  a  visit 
to  the  tomb  of  the  Empress  Noor-Jehan,  wife  of  the 
Shah  Jehan.  Moore  uses  her  romantic  history  in  his 
"Lalla  Rookh,"  for  verily  she  was  "The  Light  of  the 
Harem."  Shah  Jehan,  "  Selim,"  erected  that  marvel 
lously  beautiful  building,  with  its  lofty  dome,  and 
slender  minarets,  its  inlaid  jewels  wherein  the  walls 
are  made  to  hold  a  copy,  in  Arabic,  of  the  whole 
Koran.  Beautiful  as  Eastern  songs  represent  Noor- 
Jehan  to  be,  the  tomb  in  which  she  lies  must  sur 
pass  her  in  whiteness  and  delicacy  of  outline.  Never, 
in  harem  of  Cashmere,  nor  in  garden  of  Mogul,  were 
there  more  delicious  odors  than  those  which  still  fill 
the  air  about  her  tomb.  No  brighter,  more  various, 
or  more  odorous  flowers  bloomed  in  Mahomet's  Para 
dise,  than  now  bewilder  the  visitor  to  that  hallowed 
spot.  It  was  fortunate  for  Mr.  Taylor  that  he  had 
seen  the  boasted  palaces  and  temples  of  Europe  and 
Western  Asia,  before  he  visited  that  enchanted  spot. 
Dreams  of  Aladdin  became  literal  there.  In  tow 
ers,  arches,  domes,  colonnades,  ceilings  of  pearl  and 
precious  stones,  pillars  wrought  with  the  skilful 
jeweller's  art,  inlaid  floors  in  which  no  crease  appears, 
in  diamond-like  foundations,  and  in  the  unity  of  its 


AT    DELHI.  219 

unbroken  sculptures,  the  temples  of  Agra  and  of  its 
suburbs,  excel  those  of  Venice  and  Florence,  as  the 
exquisite  and  angelic  echoes  in  the  dome  of  Queen 
Noor's  tomb  excel,  in  length  and  sweetness,  those  of 
the  Baptistry  at  Pisa. 

From  Agra,  he  rode  over  the  wide  highway,  ono 
hundred  and  fifteen  miles,  to  Delhi,  the  former  capita] 
of  the  Moguls,  and  which,  at  that  time,  boasted  the 
presence,  in  his  palace,  of  Akbar  IT.  There  he  W.MS 
treated  with  the  same  hospitality  as  he  had  been  in 
other  cities,  and  kind-hearted  residents  guided  him 
about  the  streets  of  the  modern  city,  and  accompanied 
him  to  the  magnificent  ruins  in  various  quarters  of  the 
plain  whereon  stood  the  old  city.  Pile  on  pile  of 
massive  columns  lay  in  ragged  majesty  about  him,  and 
bewildered  his  senses  with  their  unnumbered  towers. 
Ruins,  ruins,  ruins,  as  far  as  the •  eye  can  trace  the 
broken  plain.  Palaces,  fortresses,  temples,  mosques, 
harems,  tomb«5,  obelisks,  and  massive  battlements  lie 
hurled  together  in  undistinguished  profusion,  while 
here  and  there  the  porch  of  some  lofty  building,  or 
some  imposing  arch,  still  breaks  the  line  of  the  horizon. 
One  pillar  stands  in  the  plain,  whose  summit  is  two 
hundred  and  forty  feet  above  the  ground.  Near  this 
gigantic  shaft  are  the  ruins  of  the  palace  of  Aladdin. 
But  the  stone  that  cumber  the  plain,  and  the  stable 
platform,  once  the  floor,  do  not  suggest  the  palace  of 
diamonds,  emeralds,  pearls,  gold,  and  ivory  of  which 
we  have  read  ;  and  the  beholder  is  tempted  to  believe 


220          LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

that  there  was  a  mistake  of  location,  and  that  Agra 
instead  of  Delhi,  was  the  place  after  all.  But  Mr. 
Taylor,  whose  time  was  limited,  could  not  linger  long, 
nor  hope  to  solve  all  the  riddles  which  such  an  inex 
haustible  antiquarian  museum  suggested,  and  after 
visiting  Hindoo  temples,  adorned  with  fascinating  carv 
ings  and  unintelligible  inscriptions,  and  tombs  cover 
ing  the  remains  of  known  and  unknown  monarchs,  he 
hastened  back  to  the  modern  city,  with  its  wide  Boule 
vard,  and  made  preparations  to  visit  the  Himalaya 
Mountains. 

He  left  that  interesting  city  with  great  regret,  for, 
to  the  poet,  it  suggested  a  very  attractive  place  for 
fanciful  dreams,  and  peaceful  moralizing.  Moore 
incorporated  in  his  poem  a  Persian  inscription,  which 
was  shown  Mr.  Taylor  in  the  palace  of  Akbar  II.  : 
"If  there  be  an  Elysium  on  earth,  it  is  here,  it  is 
here."  And  it  might  have  been  such  an  Elysium  but 
for  the  dilapidated,  dirty  condition  of  the  palace,  in 
which  the  motto  was  seen,  which  did  not  harmonize 
with  the  sentiment,  and  may  have  robbed  the  whole 
palace  of  its  poetical  attractions. 


THE    HIMALAYAS.  221 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

The  Himalaya  Mountains.  —  Returning  Southward.  —  Lucknow  and 
Calcutta.  —  Foretells  the  Great  Rebellion.  —  Embarks  for  Chi 
na. —  Visit  to  the  Mountains  of  Penang. —  The  Chinese  at  Sin 
gapore.  —  Arrival  at  Hong-Kong.  —  Joins  the  Staff  of  the  U. 
S.  Commissioner.  —  Scenes  about  Shanghai.  —  The  Nanking 
Rebellion.  —  Life  in  Shanghai.  —  Enlists  in  the  Navy.  —  Com 
modore  Perry's  Expedition. 

FROM  Delhi  Mr.  Taylor  travelled  northward  through 
a  country  well  subjugated,  which,  under  English  direc 
tion,  was  made  fertile  and  safe  for  travellers.  His 
way  lay  toward  the  summer  resort  of  the  invalids  and 
wealthy  Europeans,  which  lay  far  up  in  the  Himalaya 
Mountains,  where  the  snow  never  melted  and  where 
the  hot,  miasmatic  winds  of  the  plains  cannot  follow 
the  fugitive.  At  Roorkee,  while  lying  in  his  palanquin, 
he  caught  his  first  glimpse  of  the  Himalayas,  and  felt  that 
crushing  sense  of  awful  sublimity  which  fills  the  soul  of 
every  new  spectator.  Towers  that  the  arch  of  heaven 
seems  to  rest  upon,  white  and  gleaming  as  the  purest 
pearl,  rise  one  behind  the  other,  until  the  farthest  are  lost 
in  the  haze  of  intervening  space .  Titanic  pillars  of  snow , 
so  grand,  so  mighty,  so  expressive  of  the  most  gigan 
tic  forces  known  or  imagined  by  man,  how  can  language 
convey  their  immensity  ?  It  is  useless  to  attempt  it. 
For  you  may  talk,  and  talk,  of  mountains  and  the  glo- 


222  LIFE    OF    BAYARD    TAYLOR. 

rious  sunsets  that  enamel  them  in  roseate  tints,  yet 
no  one  will  shed  tears  or  feel  a  tremor  of  awe.  But 
he  who  beholds  them  for  the  first  time  lets  the  tears 
unnoticed  fall,  and  trembles  as  if  thrust  suddenly  into 
the  personal  presence  of  the  Almighty.  Such  a  sense 
of  humility,  of  abject  unworthiness,  takes  possession 
of  the  beholder,  that  the  soul  labors  heavily  under  the 
oppressive  load,  and  the  body  shrinks  from  a  nearer 
approach.  There  is  nothing  so  powerful  for  driving 
atheism  or  egotism  out  of  a  man  as  the  near  view  of 
the  Himalayas  or  Andes  or  Rocky  Mountains.  The 
noblest  races  of  the  world  have  been  reared  in  the  wild 
regions  of  lofty  mountains,  and  none  so  tenaciously 
revere  their  Maker,  or  so  willingly  sacrifice  themselves 
for  their  friends  or  their  God  as  the  natives  of  the 
mountain  passes. 

Mr.  Taylor  approached  the  highest  range  as  near  as 
the  heights  of  Landowr,  which  is  about  sixty  miles 
from  the  snowy  peaks  of  the  loftiest  range,  and  is  itself 
so  high  as  to  hold  the  snow  the  greater  part  of  the 
year.  There  he  saw  the  gorgeous  illumination  of  those 
heavenly  snow-fields,  when  the  sun  was  setting  and 
when  it  seems  as  if  a  universe  was  in  a  blaze,  while  its 
lurid  glare  shone  full  upon  those  stupendous  monuments 
of  the  earthquake's  titanic  power.  Mr.  Taylor  gazed 
upon  those  masses  of  the  purest  white,  as  twilight 
began  to  hide  their  outlines,  and  thought  that,  as  he 
said  in  one  of  his  lectures,  "  within  three  hundred 
miles  of  me  are  mightier  mountains  than  these  I " 


AT    CATCU-LTA. 

Having  seen  the  mountains  and  checked  his  old 
desire  to  stand  on  top  of  the  highest  one,  he  turned 
about  and  started  southward  for  Calcutta,  taking  the 
first  day's  journey  on  an  elephant  kindly  loaned  him 
by  a  new-found  friend.  He  journeyed  thence  in  the 
horse-carts  of  that  time,  via  Meerut  and  Cawnpore,  to 
Lucknow,  where  he  was  entertained  in  a  most  royal 
manner  by  the  English  officials.  After  examining  that 
great  metropolis  of  the  interior,  he  hurried  on  to 
Benares  and  thence  by  quick  relays  to  the  great  city 
of  Calcutta. 

With  a  peculiar  faculty  for  foreseeing  the  effect  of 
certain  influences  on  human  nature,  Mr.  Taylor  fore 
told  the  approaching  mutiny.  He  saw  that  the  English 
treated  the  natives  with  habitual  indignity.  He  saw 
that  three-quarters  of  the  earnings  of  the  people  was 
taken  by  the  government.  He  saw  that  the  English 
were  in  a  great  minority.  He  saw  that  the  Sepoy 
regiments  were  good  soldiers.  He  saw  that  influential 
positions  were  held  by  dangerously  powerful  natives. 
And  he  declared  that  a  rebellion  was  not  only  possible, 
but  probable. 

Four  years  later  began  that  great  rebellion  among 
the  natives,  which  became  one  of  the  bloodiest  and 
cruelest  contests  known  in  the  annals  of  history. 
Chiefs  and  princes  who  received  Mr.  Taylor  cordially 
during  his  visit,  were  afterwards  executed  for  treason. 
Fortresses,  temples,  and  cities,  which  he  visited  were 


224  LIFE    OF    BAYAKD    TAYLOR. 

shattered  and  torn  by  the  shots  of  contending  armies. 
Oppression  and  aristocratic  pride  resulted,  as  it  natu 
rally  would,  in  horrid  carnage  and  an  impoverished 
treasury.  Mr.  Taylor's  words  of  warning  as  they 
appeared  in  America,  were  probably  never  read  in 
England,  or  if  they  were  read,  were  scouted  as  the 
fears  of  one  who  did  not  understand  the  "  permanency 
of  a  despotism." 

Although  his  stay  was  short  in  Calcutta,  his  descrip 
tion  of  the  people,  the  dwellings,  the  shipping,  and 
social  customs  was  one  of  the  most  clear  and  complete 
to  be  found  in  print.  One  who  reads  it  sees  the  city, 
the  river,  the  verdant  plains,  and  the  sea  spread  out 
before  him,  and  becomes  acquainted  with  the  shop-keep 
ers,  police,  Parsees,  Arabs,  Hindoos,  Chinese,  and 
Europeans,  that  made  up  the  motley  throngs.  True  to 
his  patriotic  purpose,  he  gave  the  commerce  of  the 
port  such  attention  as  the  interests  of  our  merchants 
required. 

From  Calcutta  he  proceeded  by  an  English  steamer 
to  Penang  on  the  coast  of  the  Malay  Peninsula.  It  is 
a  delightful  locality,  and  is  as  beautiful  in  situation 
and  vegetation  as  its  clove  and  nutmeg  trees  are  fra 
grant.  There  again  he  gratified  his  taste  for  climbing 
a  mountain,  and  spent  nearly  his  whole  time  ascending 
to  the  signal  station  on  the  highest  peak  of  the  penin 
sula.  It  was  the  only  place  he  visited  in  which  he 
left  unseen  the  attractive  nooks,  grottos,  waterfalls, 
and  jungles,  and  chose  instead  the  less  interesting 


CHINESE   AT    SINGAPORE.  225 

experience.  It  was  a  source  of  regret  to  him  after 
ward,  that  he  did  not  spend  the  few  hours  he  had,  in  the 
lowlands  and  on  the  mountain-sides  rather  than  at  their 
tops.  Every  traveller  who  has  visited  Penang  could 
detect  the  error.  Yet,  Mr.  Taylor  set  down  in  his 
account  of  his  visit  more  valuable  information  and  a 
more  graphic  outline  of  the  landscape  than  any  travel 
ler  appears  to  have  done,  notwithstanding  the  beauti 
ful  falls  of  Penang  are  visited  by  thousands  yearly. 

Accompanying  the  steamer  in  its  usual  route,  Mr. 
Taylor  stopped  at  Singapore,  at  the  extreme  southern 
end  of  the  peninsula.  It  was  a  new  port  at  that  time, 
and  was  not  so  important  as  it  afterwards  became ; 
yet  he  found  ten  or  fifteen  thousand  people  there, 
mostly  dirty  and  repulsive  Chinese.  Mr.  Taylor  was 
not  pleased  with  the  Chinese  as  a  race,  for  two  reasons. 
First,  he  heard  such  reports  of  their  barbarity,  beast 
liness,  and  dishonesty  ;  second,  they  were  an  awkward, 
unsymmetrical  people,  devoid  of  that  physical  beauty 
which  the  artist  admires  and  copies.  He  dwelt  upon 
the  latter  fact  in  his  letters,  and  mentioned  it  in  his 
book.  Neither  Phidias,  Polyc rates,  Raphael,  or  An- 
gelo  would  have  selected  a  model  from  among  these 
creatures,  and  naturally  enough  the  artistic  taste  of 
Mr.  Taylor  was  shocked  by  such  natural  deformities 
as  the  Chinese  were,  when  looked  upon  with  reference 
to  the  graceful  and  beautiful  in  the  human  form.  It 
is  but  just  to  the  Chinese  as  a  nation  to  say  that, 
according  to  the  writer's  experience  among  them,  the 


226  LIFE    OF   BAYARD    TAYLOR. 

Coolies  who  emigrate  to  Singapore,  Sydney,  arid  Cali 
fornia  are  by  no  means  a  fair  sample  of  the  educated 
and  wealthy  classes  who  remain  at  home  and  drive  out 
the  least  useful  and  least  intelligent  portion.  If  one 
were  to  judge  of  the  acquirements,  ability,  or  physical 
beauty  of  the  Chinese  nation  exclusively  by  the  poor 
emigrants  who  cannot  successfully  compete  with  their 
neighbors,  and  hence  are  compelled  to  go  away  from 
home  for  success,  he  would  be  nearly  as  sadly  misled 
as  one  would  be  should  he  form  his  opinion  of  the 
American  people  by  the  inmates  of  their  jails  and 
poor-houses.  There  are  many  noble  men  and  beauti 
ful  women  in  the  interior  of  China,  whether  regarded 
mentally,  morally,  or  physically.  Mr.  Taylor  did  not 
see  them,  and  like  a  faithful  scribe  he  wrote  down  only 
those  things  he  saw,  and  knew  to  be  true.  The 
Chinese  whom  he  saw  in  the  ports  engaged  in  unload 
ing  vessels,  or  doing  like  menial  services,  were  not 
beautiful,  and  he  said  so. 

When  Mr.  Taylor  arrived  in  Hong-Kong  he  was 
received  with  the  same  kind  hospitality  which  his  very 
countenance  secured  for  him  in  every  land.  The 
United  States  Commissioner,  the  Hon.  Humphrey 
Marshall,  who  happened  to  be  at  Macao,  and  whom 
Mr.  Taylor  met  there  on  crossing  the  bay  from  Hong- 
Kong,  offered  to  attach  Mr.  Taylor  to  his  staff,  for  a 
trip  to  the  seat  of  war.  The  great  rebellion  in  the 
Kiangsu  province,  lying  north-westerly  from  Shanghai, 
had  assumed  such  threatening  proportions  that  the 


CHINESE    REBELLION.  227 

emperor  at  Peking  trembled  on  his  throne.  Exagger 
ated  accounts  of  the  fiendish  atrocities  of  the  rebels, 
and  rumors  of  great  battles  and  successful  sieges  had 
reached  the  seaports,  and  even  the  peaceful  American 
merchants  at  Shanghai  feared  capture  and  death.  In 
view  of  all  this,  Mr.  Taylor  anticipated  an  exciting 
experience.  Together  with  the  whole  ship's  company, 
he  felt,  when  the  United  States  steamer  left  Hong- 
Kong  for  Shanghai,  as  if  there  was  a  measure  of  un 
certainty  if  he  ever  returned.  But  the  reports  had 
been  so  much  enlarged  in  their  transmission  to  Hong- 
Kong,  that  when  they  arrived  at  the  port  of  Shanghai 
they  were  delighted  to  find  the  place  in  no  immediate 
danger  of  attack  from  the  Chinese.  In  order  to  show 
the  rebels  that  the  Americans  were  neutral  in  all  the 
Chinese  quarrels,  the  Commissioner  undertook  the 
hazardous  task  of  ascending  the  Yang-tse-kiang  River 
to  the  beleaguered  town  of  Nanking.  It  seems  to 
have  been  a  foolish  undertaking,  and  viewed  from 
any  diplomatic  standpoint,  to  have  been  indirectly  an 
encouragement  of  the  rebellion.  It  was  not  so  in 
tended,  however,  and  Mr.  Taylor  did  not  give  his 
opinion  of  the  "good  faith"  which  prompted  the  send 
ing  of  envoys  to  a  local  rebellion  in  the  interior  of  a 
"great  and  friendly  nation."  But  what  good  sense 
could  not  do,  the  shoals  and  incompetency  of  the 
native  pilots  did  accomplish ;  and  the  Commissioner 
who  was  going  up  the  river  to  pat  the  rebels  on  the 
back  and  ask  them  not  to  hurt  their  friends,  the 


228  LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

Americans,  was  compelled  to  return  to  Shanghai.  It 
would  have  been  better  for  the  United  States  if  the 
second  undertaking  had  been  equally  unsuccessful ; 
but  as  Mr.  Taylor  had  no  share  in  it,  it  is  of  no  further 
importance  here. 

While  at  Shanghai  he  experienced  the  sensation  of 
being  besieged  without  seeing  an  enemy.  The  fright 
ened  people  organized  themselves  into  military  com 
panies  and  drilled  with  the  sailors.  Breastworks  were 
thrown  up  and  cannon  placed  ready  for  action.  The 
streets  were  patrolled  and  a  guard  kept  over  the  pro 
visions  and  ammunition.  Tales  of  approaching  hosts 
were  freely  circulated,  and  once  the  terrified  populace 
were  informed  by  an  intelligent  refugee  that  the  enemy 
were  within  sight.  Yet  the  days  passed  on ;  the 
Chinese  government  began  to  show  vitality,  and  the 
great  rebellion,  with  all  its  fearful  butchery  and  refine 
ment  of  cruelty,  was  extinguished  without  the  molesta 
tion  of  the  foreigners  at  Shanghai,  and  was  overcome, 
notwithstanding  the  encouraging  assurance  given  the 
rebels  by  the  United  States  Commissioner  that  our 
government  was  not  disposed  to  interfere  with  their 
outrages. 

While  in  Shanghai  Mr.  Taylor  wrote  some  admir 
able  articles  upon  the  tea  culture  of  China,  and  upon 
the  possible  commerce  with  the  Pacific  coast  of  Amer 
ica,  which  were  published  in  New  York  and  London. 
He  felt  the  throes  of  an  earthquake  while  there,  and 
had  some  pleasant  interviews  with  the  educated  classes 


BECOMES  A  sAtLofc.  229 

of  China.  He  saw  the  parade  of  the  native  soldiers, 
and  witnessed  their  grotesque  religious  ceremonies. 
His  observation  was  so  close,  and  his  generalization 
usually  so  just,  that  until  within  a  few  years  there  has 
been  no  book  printed  in  America  which  gave  so  much 
of  the  information  desired  by  popular  readers  in  so 
little  space  as  Taylor's  account  of  that  visit. 

Early  in  May  Commodore  Perry  arrived  at  Shanghai, 
prepared  for  the  expedition  which  the  United  States 
had  ordered  him  to  make  to  Japan,  and  Mr.  Taylor's 
long-felt  desire  to  embark  on  that  enterprise  was 
gratified.  He  was  compelled  to  enlist  in  the  navy  as 
master's  mate,  and  subject  himself  and  all  that  he 
should  write,  to  the  orders  of  the  navy  department 
and  officers  of  the  fleet.  It  seemed  at  first  to  be  rather 
humiliating  terms,  but  after  he  had  made  the  acquaint 
ance  of  the  officers  and  learned  the  ways  of  a  ship  he 
found  it  a  very  pleasant  position.  Thus,  from  one 
calling  to  another,  he  turned  with  a  readiness  and  a 
success  which  were  astonishing. 


230  LIFE    OF   BAYARD   TAYLOR. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

His  Reception  on  the  Man-of-war.  —  Commodore  Perry's  Tribute.  — 
Mr.  Taylor's  Journals.  —  Visit  to  the  Loo-Choo  Islands.  —  Explora 
tions.  —  Mr.  Taylor  becomes  a  Favorite.  —  His  Description  of  the 
Country.  — Cruise  to  Japan.  — The  Purpose  of  the  Expedition.  — 
Mr.  Taylor's  Assistance.  —  Return  to  Hong-Kong.  —  Resigns  his 
Commission.  —  Visits  Canton.  —  Sails  for  America,.  —  St.  Helena. 
—  Arrival  in  Ne\A'  York. 

THERE  was  some  opposition  to  Mr.  Taylor's  request 
to  be  taken  into  the  United  States  service,  but  his  per 
sistency  and  gentlemanly  address  not  only  overcame 
the  scruples  of  the  Commodore,  but  soon  made  him  a 
general  favorite.  Commodore  Perry,  after  his  return 
to  the  United  States,  mentioned  the  circumstances 
connected  with  Mr.  Taylor's  enlistment,  and  used  the 
following  language :  — 

"On 'my  arrival  at  Shanghai  I  found  there  Mr.  Bayard 
Taylor,  who  had  a  letter  of  introduction  to  me  from  an 
esteemed  friend  in  New  York.  He  had  been  a  long  time, 
as  I  understood,  exceedingly  anxious  to  join  the  squadron, 
that  he  might  visit  Japan,  which  he  could  reach  in  no  other 
way. 

"  On  presenting  the  letter  referred  to,  he  at  once  made  a 
request  to  accompany  me  ;  but  to  this  application  I  strongly 
objected,  intimating  to  him  the  determination  I  had  made  at 
the  commencement  of  the  cruise  to  admit  no  civilians,  and 


Iff    fttE    ffAVIf.  231 

explaining  how  the  few  who  were  in  the  squadron  had,  by 
signing  the  shipping  articles,  subjected  themselves  to  all  the 
restraints  and  penalties  of  naval  law ;  that  there  were  no 
suitable  accommodations  for  him,  and  that  should  he  join 
the  expedition  he  would  be  obliged  to  suffer,  with  the  other 
civilians,  many  discomforts  and  privations,  and  would  more 
over  be  restricted,  under  a  general  order  of  the  navy  depart 
ment,  from  communicating  any  information  to  the  public 
prints  or  privately  to  his  friends  ;  that  all  the  notes  or  gen 
eral  observations  made  by  him  during  the  cruise  would 
belong  to  the  government,  and  therefore  must  be  deposited 
with  me.  Notwithstanding  this,  however,  with  a  full  knowl 
edge  of  all  the  difficulties  and  inconveniences  which  would 
attend  his  joining  the  squadron,  he  still  urged  his  applica 
tion. 

"Being  thus  importuned,  and  withal  very  favorably 
impressed  with  his  gentlemanlike  and  unassuming  manners, 
I  at  last  reluctantly  consented,  and  he  joined  the  mess  of 
Messrs.  Heine  and  Brown  on  board  the  '  Susquehanna.' 
During  the  short  time  he  remained  in  the  squadron  he  gained 
the  respect  and  esteem  of  all,  and  by  his  habits  of  observa 
tion,  aided  by  his  ready  pen,  became  quite  useful  in  prepar 
ing  notes  descriptive  of  various  incidents  that  transpired 
during  our  first  brief  visit  to  Japan  and  the  Islands.  It 
was  the  only  service  he  could  render,  and  it  was  afforded 
cheerfully.  These  notes  have  been  used  in  the  preparation 
of  my  report,  and  due  credit  has,  I  trust,  been  given  to 
h.jn.  Some  of  the  incidents  illustrative  of  the  events  men 
tioned  in  my  official  communications  were,  with  my  consent, 
written  out  by  Mr.  Taylor  and  sent  home  by  him  for  publi 
cation  in  the  United  Slates.  These  he  has  used  in  his  late 


232  LIFE   OF   BAYARD   TAYLOR. 

work.  His  original  journals  were  honorably  deposited  in 
my  bands.  His  reports,  like  those  of  every  other  individual 
detailed  for  the  performance  of  a  special  duty,  were  of 
course  delivered  to  me,  and  became  Dart  of  the  official 
records  of  the  expedition." 

This  tribute  of  friendship  and  respect,  thus  freely 
bestowed  by  one  holding  the  high  rank  of  Commodore 
Perry,  gratified  the  friends  of  Mr.  Taylor  very  much 
at  the  time  they  were  written,  and  will  now  be  prized 
by  them  as  a  testimonial  from  the  highest  and  best 
source. 

On  leaving  the  port  of  Shanghai  the  squadron  of 
the  Commodore  proceeded  direct  to  the  Loo-Choo 
Islands,  which  were  a  group  of  thirty-six  islands 
lying  to  the  south-west  of  Japan,  and  tributary  to  that 
empire.  On  the  26th  of  May,  1853,  the  several 
steamers  and  sailing  vessels  came  to  anchor  in  a  har 
bor  of  the  Great  Loo-Choo  Island,  but  a  few  miles 
from  the  capital  of  the  kingdom.  Immediately  Mr. 
Taylor's  services  as  a  descriptive  writer  were  brought 
into  requisition,  and  so  proficient  and  industrious  was 
he,  and  he  so  much  excelled  the  others  with  whom  he 
was  associated,  that  the  Commodore  saw  fit  to  entrust 
to  his  quick  eye  and  ready  pen  many  of  the  most 
important  details  of  the  expedition.  His  reports  or 
journals  of  the  explorations  were  never  published  in 
full,  and  as  the  government  kept  them  from  him  Mr. 
Taylor  could  not  use  them  in  his  book  of  travels  in 
Japan  and  Loo-Choo.  This  is  much  to  be  regretted 


AT   LOO-CttOO.  233 

now,  as  the  greatly  condensed  narrative  which  ap 
peared  in  his  book  does  not  give  the  reader  a  compre 
hensive  idea  of  Mr.  Taylor's  capabilities.  His  news 
paper  correspondence  was  always  more  readable  and 
full  than  were  the  pages  of  his  book ;  for,  between  his 
desire  not  to  tire  the  reader  nor  impoverish  the  pub 
lisher,  he  frequently  culled  and  abridged  too  much. 
What  a  wonderful  volume  would  that  be  wherein 
should  be  published  in  full  Mr.  Taylor's  descriptions 
of  the  countries  of  Loo-Choo  and  Japan,  without  con 
densation  or  abridgment.  To  illustrate  this  thought, 
and  to  give  a  clear  specimen  of  his  style,  we  insert  a 
page  from  his  diary  of  the  28th  of  May,  1853,  reciting 
his  experience  when  out  in  a  small  boat  in  the  harbor 
of  the  Great  Loo-Choo  Island  visiting  the  coral  reef. 
It  was  a  very  little  incident,  but  we  ask  the  reader  to 
notice  how  full  of  interesting  information  and  beauti 
ful  reference  he  made  his  account  of  it : 

"  The  crew  were  Chinamen,  wholly  ignorant  of  the 
use  of  oars,  and  our  trip  would  have  been  of  little 
avail  had  not  the  sea  been  perfectly  calm.  With  a  lit 
tle  trouble  we  succeeded  in  making  them  keep  stroke, 
and  made  for  the  coral  reef,  which  separates  the  north 
ern  from  the  lower  channel.  The  tide  was  nearly  out, 
and  the  water  was  very  shoal  on  all  the  approaches  to 
the  reef.  We  found,  however,  a  narrow  channel  \\ind- 
ing  between  the  groves  of  mimic  foliage,  and  landed 
on  the  spongy  rock,  which  rose  about  a  foot  above  the 
water.  Here  the  littlo  pools  that  seamed  the  surface 


234  LIFE  OF  BArARD  TAYLOR. 

were  alive  with  crabs,  snails,  star-fish,  sea-prickles, 
and  numbers  of  small  fish  of  the  intensest  blue  color, 
We  found  several  handsome  shells  clinging  to  the  coral. 
But  all  our  efforts  to  secure  one  of  the  fish  failed. 
The  tide  was  ebbing  so  fast  that  we  were  obliged  to 
return  for  fear  of  grounding  the  boat.  We  hung  for 
some  time  over  the  coral  banks,  enraptured  with  the 
beautiful  forms  and  colors  exhibited  by  this  wonderful 
vegetation  of  the  sea.  The  coral  grew  in  rounded 
banks,  with  the  clear,  deep  spaces  of  water  between, 
resembling,  in  miniature,  ranges  of  hills  covered  with 
autumnal  forests.  The  loveliest  tints  of  blue,  violet, 
pale-green,  yellow,  and  white  gleamed  through  the 
waves.  And  all  the  varied  forms  of  vegetable  life  were 
grouped  together  along  the  edges  of  cliffs  and  preci 
pices,  hanging  over  the  chasms  worn  by  currents  be 
low.  Through  those  paths  and  between  the  stems  of 
the  coral  groves,  the  blue  fish  shot  hither  and  thither 
like  arrows  of  the  purest  lapis-lazuli :  and  others  of  a 
dazzling  emerald  color,  with  tails  and  fins  tipped  with 
gold,  eluded  our  chase  like  the  green  bird  in  the 
Arabian  story.  Far  down  below  in  the  dusky  depth 
of  the  waters  we  saw  now  and  then  some  large  brown 
fish  hovering  stealthily  about  the  entrances  to  the  coral 
groves,  as  if  lying  in  wait  for  their  bright  little  inhab 
itants.  The  water  was  so  clear  that  the  eye  was 
deceived  as  to  its  depths  and  we  seemed  now  to  rest  on 
the  branching  tops  of  some  climbing  forest,  now  to 
hang  suspended  as  in  mid  air  between  the  crests  of  two 


nrs  REPORTS.  23,5 

opposing  ones.  Of  all  the  wonders  of  the  sea,  which 
have  furnished  food  for  poetry  and  fable,  this  was  as 
suredly  the  most  beautiful." 

That  trait,  which  characterized  Mr.  Taylor,  accounts 
in  a  measure  for  the  inclination  of  all  persons  who  met 
him  to  hold  his  companionship  and  acquaintance.  As 
Mr.  Taylor's  esteemed  friend,  Mr.  E.  P.  Whipple,  of 
Boston,  once  beautifully  remarked  of  another,  Mr. 
Taylor  was  sought  by  men,  "because  they  learned 
more  of  the  world  and  its  beauties  through  his  eyes 
than  through  their  own."  His  services  in  giving  an 
accurate  idea  of  the  countries  they  explored  were  in 
valuable,  because  it  was  not  only  necessary  to  visit 
those  countries  and  open  their  ports  to  commerce,  but 
it  was  also  necessary  to  give  to  the  American  people 
such  a  idea  of  the  advantages  and  conveniences  of 
trade  as  to  induce  them  to  enter  upon  it.  Nothing 
could  be  clearer  than  his  views  of  life  in  these  islands, 
nothing  more  complete  than  his  enumeration  of  the 
products,  manufactures,  and  needs  of  the  countries 
they  visited.  The  publication  in  full  of  all  his  notes 
and  observations  as  suggested  to  the  Naval  Department 
by  the  officers  of  the  Squadron  at  the  time,  would  have 
given  our  people  a  better  understanding  of  the  impor 
tance  of  the  commerce  and  the  character  of  the  people, 
than  any  other  report  could  do.  However,  the  Com 
modore  used  a  great  many  pztgcs  of  Mr.  Taylor's  jour 
nal  while  making  his  report  to  the  United  States  Gov« 
eminent. 


LIFE   OF   BAYA&D   TAYLOR. 


Mr.  Taylor  was  detailed  to  attend  nearly  every 
important  excursion,  and  was  a  most  hearty  and  perse 
vering  explorer.  He  pushed  into  the  interior  of  an 
unknown  jungle,  intent  on  finding  new  flowers,  new 
minerals,  or  new  animals.  He  ascended  every  moun 
tain  which  was  accessible,  and  ventured  into  every  cave 
that  could  be  reached  by  boat  or  foot.  The  Great 
Loo-Choo  Island  became  familiar  to  him,  and  its  flora 
and  fauna  were  indelibly  catalogued  in  his  mind,  while 
the  varied  views  of  mountain,  vale,  forest,  bay,  and 
sea  were  engraved  upon  his  memory.  By  his  good 
nature  and  kindly  regard  for  the  welfare  of  the  Loo- 
Choo  natives  when  they  met,  he  contributed  not  a 
little  toward  the  safety  and  success  of  the  exploration 
in  that  island. 

From  Loo-Choo  the  fleet  sailed  to  the  Bonin  Islands, 
where  a  harbor  suitable  for  a  depot  of  supplies  was 
found  and  land  purchased  by  the  Commodore  for 
government  buildings  should  his  choice  of  a  harbor  be 
confirmed.  The  ships  returned  to  Loo-Choo  and  pro 
ceeded  directly  to  the  bay  of  Yeddo  in  Japan. 

For  two  hundred  years  that  important  nation  had 
preserved  its  exclusiveness,  and  had  become  almost  as 
unknown  to  the  western  nations  as  an  undiscovered 
continent.  Almost  every  commercial  nation  had,  from 
time  to  time,  attempted  to  secure  a  footing  for  a  trad 
ing-post  or  a  harbor  for  their  vessels.  In  everji 
instance  they  had  failed,  and  the  civilized  world  had 
looked  upon  Japan  as  a  country  sealed  beyond  hop-' 


IN   JAPAN. 


237 


of  breaking.  It  must  have  appeared  to  every  one, 
including  the  Commodore  himself,  that  the  under 
taking  in  which  he  was  engaged  was  an  especially  diffi 
cult  enterprise.  How  could  he  hope  to  succeed  where 
England,  Portugal,  Holland,  Italy,  and  Kussia  had 
failed  ?  Yet  he  succeeded  beyond  anything  the  most 
hopeful  had  desired ;  and  as  a  result  of  his  expedition 
a  mighty  nation  and  a  fertile  country  were  restored  to 
the  family  of  nations. 

In  that  expedition  Mr.  Taylor  took  a  deep  interest, 
and  with  great  enthusiasm  wrote  letters  to  his  home 
descriptive  of  Fusiyama,  Kanagawa,  and  the  scenery 
around  Yeddo  Bay.  During  the  long  delay  made  by 
the  Japanese  authorities,  to  impress  the  Commodore 
with  their  dignity,  he  was  engaged  with  eye  and  ear 
and  pen  in  the  service  of  his  country.  With  the  devo 
tion  which  marked  all  his  undertakings,  he  noted 
everything  which  passed  under  his  scrunity,  in  order 
that  the  Commodore  might  be  informed  of  every 
detail.  Many  travellers  pass  months  at  Yokohama, 
Yeddo,  or  Nagasaki,  making  investigations  and  excur 
sions,  without  finding  out  so  much  of  interest  as  Mr. 
Taylor  saw  in  a  single  day.  That  natural  and  acquired 
acuteness  of  observation,  and  that  intuitive  compre 
hension  which  made  him  so  conspicuous,  are  well  wor 
thy  of  study  and  imitation  by  all  persons  who  are 
ambitious  to  excel,  whether  engaged  in  travelling  or 
in  any  other  occupation.  So  thoroughly  had  he  dis 
ciplined  himself  in  the  inspection  of  all  that  sur- 


238  LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

rounded  him,  that  when  he  arrived  in  Japan,  the  ships, 
the  junks,  the  .people,  their  dress,  their  customs,  their 
food,  their  language,  the  vegetation,  the  minerals,  the 
animals,  the  birds,  the  landscapes,  the  bays,  the  prom 
ontories,  the  islands,  the  sea,  the  air,  the  sky,  the 
stars,  the  wind,  and  the  sunlight  were  each  and  all 
full  of  suggestions  and  valuable  instruction.  One 
could  not  follow  Mr.  Taylor's  writings  in  the  closing 
years  of  his  travels  without  becoming  conscious  of 
ignorance  and  shrrt-sightedness  concerning  the  com 
monest  things  of  life.  It  made  his  readers  feel,  often 
times,  when  they  discovered  how  much  he  had  noticed 
which  they  had  overlooked,  as  boys  feel  when  a  play 
mate  finds  a  silver  dollar  on  a  spot  which  they  have 
passed  and  repassed  without  his  good  luck  ;  with  the 
difference,  however,  that  Mr.  Taylor's  good  fortune  in 
that  respect  was  the  result  of  hard  work  and  careful 
culture. 

After  the  close  of  the  preliminary  negotiations,  and 
a  hasty  survey  of  the  bay  of  Yeddo,  the  fleet  departed 
on  a  short  cruise  to  Hong-Kong,  in  order  to  give  the 
Japanese  emperor  time  to  think  over  the  propositions 
which  the  United  States  Government  had  made  to  His 
Majesty. 

The  trip  to  Hong-Kong,  by  way  of  the  Loo-Choo 
Islands,  was  without  special  incident,  and  on  the  7th  of 
August  he  was  again  in  the  harbor  which  he  had  left 
in  the  month  of  March.  For  five  months  he  had 
known  what  it  was  to  be  a  seamen  and  made  subject 


RETURN    TO    HONG-KONG.  239 

to  the  strict  orders  enforced  on  a  man-of-war.  It  was 
a  fresh  experience.  He  was  keen  enough  to  recognize 
the  merits  and  failings  of  naval  discipline  and  naval 
drill.  He  saw  that  many  improvements  might  be 
made  in  both.  He  thought,  furthermore,  that  the 
ships  themselves  might  be  constructed  on  a  better 
pattern.  Hence,  he  boldly  recommended  changes 
whenever  the  opportunity  came  for  him  to  speak 
through  the  public  prints.  He  had  become  much 
attached  to  the  officers  and  men  of  his  ship,  and  parted 
with  them  at  Hong-Kong  with  the  feeling  of  sincere 
regret.  He  had  made  it  his  home  on  board,  and  had 
been  so  contented  and  so  kindly  treated  that  he  felt 
the  pangs  of  homesickness  as  he  shook  hands  and 
went  over  the  side  for  the  last  time. 

Although  he  had  enlisted  for  the  usual  term  of 
years,  as  the  laws  of  the  United  States  recognized  no 
shorter  term,  and  ran  the  risk  of  being  held  to  the 
terms  of  his  enlistment,  yet  there  was  a  tacit  under 
standing  between  him  and  the  Commodore  that  he 
should  be  allowed  to  resign  when  the  fleet  returned  to 
Macao.  Consequently,  when  he  presented  at  that 
port  his  resignation  it  was  promptly  accepted,  and  he 
became  a  civilian  again.  He  found  it  nearly  as  awk 
ward  to  be  a  landsman  as  he  had  at  first  to  be  a  sailor, 
and  often  looked  out  on  the  great  men-of-war,  as  they 
lay  at  anchor,  with  an  indescribable  yearning  to  tread 
their  decks. 

From  Macao,  he  made  excursions  to  Hong-Kong 


240  LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

and  Canton,  finding  friends  that  pleased  him,  and  an 
aristocratic  snobbery  that  displeased  him,  in  the  for 
mer  place,  and  dirt,  vice,  and  cheating  in  the  latter, 
which  made  him  further  disgusted  with  the  Chinese 
race.  In  Canton,  as  elsewhere,  he  spoke  of  them  in 
strong  terms,  condemning  their  importation  into  the 
United  States  in  a  manner  to  please  the  bitterest 
hater  of  the  Celestials  to  be  found  on  our  Pacific 
coast.  Yet  he  visited  the  shops,  practised  the  "pig 
eon  English,"  visited  the  great  temple  of  Honan, 
tested  the  power  of  opium  by  smoking  it  himself, 
made  a  tour  into  the  country,  interested  himself  in 
the  foreign  factories  and  the  local  government,  and 
made  the  acquaintance  of  many  enterprising  foreign 
merchants.  But  his  aversion  to  the  Chinese,  doubt 
less  intensified  by  the  wild  rumors  of  barbarous  deeds 
then  current  on  account  of  the  rebellion,  was  not 
abated  after  he  had  seen  the  great  metropolis ;  and  he 
frankly  admitted,  in  his  letters  and  in  his  book,  that 
he  was  glad  to  get  away  from  China. 

At  Canton,  he  took  passage  in  a  sailing  vessel  bound 
for  New  York,  that  being  his  most  direct  and  least 
expensive  route.  He  was  anxious  to  return  to  the 
United  States,  because  he  had  been  absent  over  twc 
years,  and  because  of  some  financial  arrangements 
which  he  considered  it  important  to  make.  He  felt 
also  that  if  he  should  publish  a  record  of  his  travels  in 
the  form  of  books,  the  sooner  they  were  issued  after 
his  letters  had  appeared  in  the  "  Tribune,"  the  better 


RETURN    TO   AMERICA.  241 

for  the  publishers  and  for  himself.  In  this  undertak 
ing,  however,  he  was  much  delayed. 

The  ship  in  which  he  sailed,  passed  the  Philippine 
Islands  and  the  coast  of  Java,  and  rounding  the  Cape 
of  Good  Hope,  stopped  for  water  at  the  isle  of  St. 
Helena.  The  body  of  the  Emperor  Napoleon  had 
been  removed  to  Paris,  but  Mr.  Taylor  found  it  a  very 
interesting  and  romantic  spot.  He  was  as  much 
shocked,  however,  by  the  desecration  of  the  spot  by 
the  practical  herd-keepers,  as  he  was  by  the  profanity 
of  the  machine-rhymester  who  marred  the  grotto  of 
the  poet  Camoens  at  Macao  with  a  doggerel  composi 
tion.  Mr.  Taylor  felt  the  absurdity  of  such  profana 
tions,  as  none  but  poetical  natures  can  feel  them. 

From  St.  Helena,  the  voyage  was  not  unusually 
eventful,  and  after  one  hundred  and  one  days  at  sea, 
and  with  Mr.  Taylor  nearly  that  number  of  days 
engaged  in  writing  and  correcting,  they  arrived  in 
New  York  on  the  20th  of  December,  1853.  His  wel 
come  to  New  York  and  to  his  old  home  was  one  of  the 
most  pleasant  experiences  of  his  life,  and  he  often 
mentioned  it  as  being  as  exciting  as  the  event  of  his 
first  return  when  he  walked  into  the  old  homestead  in 
his  German  walking-suit. 


242  LIFE    OF    BAYAllD    TAYLOR. 


CHAPTER    XXV. 

Takes  up  the  Editorial  Pen.  —  Publication  of  His  "  Poems  of  the 
Orient."  —  His  Books  of  Travel.  —  Lecturing  before  Lyceums.  — 
Friendship  of  Richard  H.  Stoddard.  —  Private  Correspondence. 
—  Love  of  Fun.  —  Resolves  to  Build  a  Home  at  Kennett. — 
Charges  of  Intemperance. —Preparations  for  a  Third  Trip  to 
Europe.  — Acquaintance  with  Thackeray. 

IMMEDIATELY  upon  his  return  from  China,  he  entered 
again  the  traces  for  hard  and  long  literary  work.  He 
had  written  poems,  and  snatches  of  poems,  verses, 
and  couplets  in  his  spare  hours  as  a  traveller,  and  his 
note-book  and  guide-books  were  full  of  such  impul 
sive  productions,  written  on  the  margin  and  on  the 
fly-leaves.  Those  scattered  compositions  he  desired 
to  reduce  to  satisfactory  and  convenient  shape  for 
publication.  Some  of  them  had  been  written  on  the 
seas,  some  on  the  Nile,  one  in  Spain,  one  in  Constanti 
nople,  one  in  Jerusalem,  two  in  Gotha,  and  several  in 
railways  and  steamboats.  The  thought  of  publishing 
them  in  the  form  of  a  book,  was  suggested  to  him  by 
one  of  his  intimate  friends  in  New  York,  —  either 
Mr.  Stoddard  or  Mr.  Kiplcy,  —  his  intention  having 
been  to  publish  them  from  time  to  time  in  some  peri 
odical,  in  much  the  same  manner  as  he  had  contributed 
to  the  "Union  Magazine,"  some  eight  years  before, 


HIS   PUBLICATIONS.  243 

But  he  had  sufficient  appreciation  of  his  own  genius  to 
act  promptly  on  such  a  suggestion  of  his  friends,  and 
the  first  few  weeks  after  his  return  were  occupied  with 
that  work,  in  addition  to  the  work  of  arranging  and 
correcting  his  unpublished  letters  to  the  "Tribune." 
When  he  had  completed  the  "  Poems  of  the  Orient," 
it  was  published  by  Ticknor  &  Fields,  of  Boston,  as 
a  companion  volume  to  the  "Rhymes  of  Travel,"  and 
"Book  of  Romances,"  both  of  which  were  united  in 
one  volume,  in  1856,  under  the  title  of  "Poems  of 
Home  and  Travel."  In  the  preparation  of  these 
poems,  he  was  greatly  assisted  by  the  kindly  and  dis 
creet  criticism  of  his  friend  Stoddard,  which  he  not 
only  acknowledged  in  the  remarkable  dedication 
"  From  Mount  Tmolus,"  but  mentioned  it  to  his 
relatives  with  expressions  of  thankfulness.  The  pub 
lic  owe  a  debt  to  Mr.  Stoddard  for  his  generosity  and 
hospitality  to  Mr.  Taylor,  as  well  as  for  the  beautiful 
poems  and  truthful  biographies  which  he  has  written. 
A  true  man  is  a  friendly  critic,  if  a  critic  at  all. 
Such  was  Richard  H.  Stoddard. 

Mr.  Taylor  was  then  called  into  a  new  work  by  a 
curious  public,  who  wished  to  see  the  man  who  had 
wandered  so  far,  and  had  seen  so  much  of  this  great 
earth.  Hence  he  was  repeatedly  called  upon  to  lecture 
in  various  cities  of  the  Eastern  and  Middle  States.  His 
financial  condition  was  not  so  prosperous  as  to  pre 
clude  the  possibility  of  future  needs,  and  as  the 
invitations  to  lecture  were  accompanied  by  very  liberal 


244  LIFE    OF   BAYARD   TAYLOR. 

offers  in  the  way  of  remuneration,  he  accepted  many 
of  them.  It  was,  however,  an  uncongenial  occupa 
tion.  Public  speaking  had  never  been  recognized  as 
one  of  his  great  gifts,  and  the  great  masses  who  gather 
on  such  occasions,  gather  more  for  amusement  than 
study.  They  wished  to  see  how  he  appeared.  The 
ladies  desired  to  know  if  he  was  handsome,  well 
dressed,  and  what  was  the  color  of  his  eyes  and  hair. 
The  men  wished  to  sec  if  he  had  become  a  foreigner 

o 

in  speech  or  manner.  The  boys  wanted  to  hear  bear 
stories,  and  the  girls  of  wild  giraffes  and  affectionate 
gazelles.  Not  that  the  public  desired  to  hear  pure 
nonsense  ;  but  that  it  wished  its  lessons  very  much 
diluted.  The  polished  essays  of  Mr.  Taylor,  with  their 
poetical  language  and  refinement  of  expression,  were 
of  little  or  no  account,  and  a  view  of  his  portly  phy 
sique,  and  the  right  to  say  that  they  had  seen  him, 
and  heard  him,  satisfied  the  greater  portion.  To  him, 
such  audiences  were  not  agreeable.  Whenever  he 
could  find  a  friend  like  O'Brien  or  Stoddard,  he 
enjoyed  reading  his  own  productions  ;  but  to  be  set  up 
as  a  show,  had  in  it  no  such  satisfaction.  Being  also 
very  much  engaged  in  preparing  his  books  of  travel, 
and  in  writing  for  the  "Tribune,"  often  writing  on 
the  railway  trains,  and  in  hotels,  he  was  weary,  and 
could  not  enter  into  the  labor  of  public  teaching  with 
the  zest  which  might  otherwise  have  been  expected  of 
him.  Yet,  in  point  of  numbers,  and  financial  returns, 
bis  tour,  during  the  winter  of  1854,  was  successful, 


HIS   CORRESPONDENTS.  245 

and  the  harvest  for  the  season  of  1855  promised  to  be 
still  larger. 

In  addition  to  the  work  already  mentioned,  he  had  a 
great  number  of  private  correspondents,  whose  letters 
he  answered  with  astonishing  punctuality.  Men  n 
Egypt,  China,  England,  Germany,  California,  and  the 
United  States,  sent  him  letters  of  inquiry  about  the 
best  routes,  and  cheapest  outfit  for  travel.  To  which 
he  replied  as  fully  as  he  could,  always  remembering  the 
like  favors  done  him  when  in  the  printing-office  at 
West  Chester.  There  was  a  large  number  of  friendly 
acquaintances  in  many  parts  of  the  world  who  desired 
to  sustain  a  correspondence  with  him,  and,  often,  his 
desk  at  the  "  Tribune "  had  piled  upon  it  as  many 
as  fourscore  letters,  brought  by  a  single  mail.  It 
seems  incredible  when  we  think  of  the  amount  of 
writing  Mr.  Taylor  did  during  the  years  of  1854  and 
1855. 

Owing  to  the  great  amount  of  work  which  could 
not  be  postponed,  and  the  fact  that  the  "Tribune"  had 
the  moral  right  to  his  letters  before  he  offered  them  for 
sale  in  the  form  of  a  book,  the  last  of  his  three 
volumes  of  travel  did  not  appear  until  August,  1855. 

At  one  time,  he  entertained  the  idea  of  publishing 
a  book  of  songs,  and  consulted  with  his  publisher  con 
cerning  the  probable  success  of  such  a  volume.  But 
having  had  his  attention  called  to  the  fact  that  the 
veriest  trash  answered  the  purpose  of  musical  com 
posers  fully  as  well  as  sterling  poetry,  he  abandoned 


246  LIFE    OF   BAYARD    TAYLOR. 

the  idea.  The  thought  was  probably  suggested  to  him 
by  the  writings  of  Thomas  Moore,  whose  "  Lalla 
Rookh"  was  frequently  brought  to  mind  while  Mr. 
Taylor  was  writing  out  the  chapters  of  his  book, 
wherein  he  described  his  visit  to  Agra  and  Delhi  in 
India.  The  objections  which  he  found  to  a  volume  of 
songs,  seemed  equally  applicable  to  single  productions 
which  might  be  included  in  such  a  category,  and  he 
not  only  suppressed  many  he  had  written,  but  cau 
tiously  cut  out  verses  in  such  as  had  been  printed, 
before  he  allowed  them  to  be  published  again.  He  went 
so  far  as  to  request  that  the  song  for  which  he  obtained 
the  Jenny  Lind  prize  in  1850,  should  be  kept  forever 
out  of  print.  Some  of  these  are  said  to  be  among  his 
papers  in  Germany,  where  his  body  now  lies,  and  the 
writer  sincerely  wishes  to  see  them  all  in  print  at  a 
day  not  very  remote,  together  with  the  epistolary 
poems  and  friendly  sonnets  which  have  been  sent  by 
him  to  the  distinguished  scholars  and  poets  who 
enjoyed  his  friendship.  It  will  take  time  to  gather 
them,  but,  when  collected,  will  make  the  best  of  read 
ing,  and  will  show  the  joyous,  simple,  sincere  char 
acter  of  the  poet,  as  no  amount  of  prose  can  do. 

As  early  as  October,  1854,  Mr.  Taylor  conceived 
the  idea  of  building  a  summer  residence  near  the  old 
homestead  at  Kennett.  It  may  have  been  a  purpose 
entertained  in  his  youth,  for  he  often  mentions,  directly 
and  indirectly,  in  his  early  writings,  the  scenery  and 
the  people  about  his  home  at  Keunett  But  in  that 


LOVE   OF   HOME.  247 

year  the  idea  appears  to  have  assumed  the  form  of  a 
possibility,  for  he  wrote  to  one  of  his  old  schoolmates, 
who  resided  that  autumn  in  Jersey  City,  saying  that 
he  began  to  see  his  way  for  a  house  of  his  own  at 
Kennett.  The  letter  set  in  circulation  the  report 
that  he  was  soon  to  be  married  ;  but  he  had  kept 
his  own  counsel  so  well,  and  held  aloof  so  stu 
diously  from  the  company  of  ladies,  that  none  of 
the  gossips  could  possibly  hint  at  the  person  of  his 
choice.  This  loyalty  to  his  home  and  desire  to 
return  to  it  like  a  weary  bird  to  its  nest,  was  a 
beautiful  trait  of  his  character,  and  testifies  strongly 
to  his  natural  goodness  of  heart.  For  it  will  be  found 
that  the  noblest  men  of  all  ages  and  professions  have 
loved  the  homes  of  their  childhood,  while  the  selfish, 
narrow,  barbarous,  and  mean,  universally  regard  their 
early  associations  with  neglect  or  contempt. 

A  touching  scene  arises  before  the  writer,  as  he 
reaches  this  theme,  and  the  tears  will  come  to  the  eye 
and  cheek  !  Away  in  that  German  land  sleeps  the 
son  and  brother.  The  romantic  home  at  Kennett, 
stands  cosy,  yet  stately,  among  the  winter-stricken 
trees.  Inside  are  the  dear  ones  whom  neither  years, 
nor  honors,  nor  wanderings  have  induced  him  to  for 
get  —  the  father  and  the  mother  in  the  mansion  of  their 
son.  There  is  the  sister,  whose  feet,  after  years  of 
absence,  tread  again  the  paths  of  home.  There  the 
visitor  feels  the  gloom  of  a  distant  death.  Windows 
that  flashed  with  light ;  drawing-rooms  that  were 


248  LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

made  charming  by  the  cheerful  faces  of  the  great  and 
good,  are  now  suggestive  of  sadness  and  disaster. 
The  cold  winds  shake  the  dry  vines,  and  cry  around 
its  cornices.  The  loved  ones  are  there,  —  waiting, 
waiting  for  him  to  come  home !  He  never  disap 
pointed  them  before.  Why  comes  he  not?  Why  do 
not  his  letters  come  with  the  mail  ? 

"  Moan,  ye  wild  winds !  around  the  pane, 
And  fall  thou  drear  December  rain  ! " 

Ah,  we  know  the  meaning  now  of  those  sad  words. 
For  we  have  lived  them  too  ! 

Ever  looking  forward  to  the  time  when  he  could 
give  his  parents  a  more  luxurious  home,  feeling  most 
keenly  the  rapid  strides  of  time,  as  he  looked  upon 
their  whitening  locks,  unwilling  to  prosper  alone,  and 
promoting  ever  the  welfare  of  those  he  loved,  he 
strove  with  an  unchangeable  determination  to  accumu 
late  sufficient  money  to  build  a  house  near  the  old  farm, 
that  should  be  a  home  for  all,  and  a  resting-place  for 
himself.  To  this,  in  part,  was  due  his  incessant  work 
through  the  years  of  1854  and  1855.  His  books  brought 
him  a  considerable  return ;  he  received  a  reasonable 
compensation  as  editor  and  lecturer,  and  he  had  lifted 
the  load  of  debt  which  the  " Phoenixville  Pioneer"  had 
bequeathed  to  him,  but  which  no  one  believed  he  was 
able  to  pay ;  and  could  look  forward  to  a  competency 
and,  perhaps,  to  wealth.  Yet,  in  all  his  work,  there 
was  a  cheerfulness  that  seemed  to  give  rest  while  tha 


SOCIAL   HABITS.  249 

work  went  on.  He  often  indulged  in  fun,  was  ever 
joking  with  his  friends,  and  indulging  in  playful  pranks 
with  his  acquaintances.  Usually,  however,  his  face- 
tiousness  was  itself  a  method  of  self-discipline, — a 
different  kind  of  work.  He  used  to  visit  his  friends 
whenever  an  evening  could  be  spared  from  necessary 
labor,  and  spend  the  hours  in  writing  and  exchanging 
humorous  burlesques,  acrostics,  sonnets,  and  parodies. 
Sometimes  he  would  "  race  "  with  his  literary  friends 
in  writing  lines  of  poetry  on  a  given  subject,  and 
although,  as  he  afterward  acknowledged,  he  often  came 
in  second  best,  yet  he  enjoyed  the  sport  and  the  sati3- 
faction  of  the  victor  none  the  less.  The  same  fun- 
loving,  mischievous,  kind-hearted  boy,  who  enjoyed 
writing  extravagant  verses,  and  sending  them  to  his 
schoolmates,  walked  the  streets  of  New  York  in  1855. 
Time  had  given  discretion,  sorrow  had  given  reserve  ; 
but  the  fun  bubbled  out  whenever  the  waters  were 
moved.  His  mirth  was  less  ostentatious,  but  not  less 
hearty.  Loving  a  bottle  of  beer,  or  wine,  for  the 
sake  of  sociability,  for  in  his  younger  days  it  was 
universally  considered  a  necessity,  he  never  drank 
to  excess,  nor  was  ever  regarded  by  his  companions  as 
an  intemperate  man.  Envious  simpletons  have  some 
times  accused  him  of  intemperate  habits  during  those 
two  years ;  but  so  well-known  and  frank  was  his  life, 
that  it  would  have  been  then,  as  it  certainly  is  now,  a 
waste  of  time  to  deny  so  absurd  a  statement.  So- 
called  temperance  men  are  often  the  most  intemperate 


250  LIFE   or   BAYARD   TAYLOR. 

people  kx  own  in  public  life.  As  temperance,  in  fact, 
consists  c  <  temperance  in  all  things,  as  well  as  in  the 
use  of  int  >xicating  drinks,  the  real  temperance  people 
of  Americ  a  will  discourage  alike  the  excess  in  'the  use 
of  stimuli  nts,  and  that  excess  in  the  use  of  epithets 
and  misrej  resentation,  which,  by  the  resulting  reaction, 
encourage;  the  use  of  that  which  they  wish  to  prohibit. 
Intempera  3  speeches,  like  intemperate  laws,  and 
intemperat )  drinking,  are  to  be  condemned  and 
avoided  by  all  who  believe  the  Highest  Moral  Stand 
ard  known  to  man.  It  is  exceedingly  intemperate  to 
circulate  a  alsehood  about  any  person,  and  especially 
of  one  of  c  ir  own  American  family,  who  has  done  so 
much  for  car  nation,  and  "never  wished  harm  to  any 
man." 

It  had  long  been  Mr.  Taylor's  wish  to  take  his 
sisters  and  brother  to  Europe  with  him,  in  order  that 
they  might  eLJ<»y  those  scenes  which  had  pleased  him 
so  much;  and  he  had  often  mentioned,  in  his  letters 
to  them  from  abroad,  how  much  more  he  would  enjoy 
the  advantages  of  travel,  if  they  could  be  with  him  to 
share  in  his  pleasure.  He  was  too  generous  to  desire 
the  exclusive  enjoyment  of  anything,  and  was  espe 
cially  anxious  that  those  related  to  him  should  reap  the 
benefits  of  all  his  labors.  Hence,  in  the  spring  of  1856 
(not  without  correspondence  with  one  in  Gotha,  how 
ever),  he  arranged  his  plans  for  another  series  of 
excursions  in  Europe,  and  persuaded  his  sisters  and 
brother  to  accompany  him. 


GOES    TO    ENGLAND.  251 

It  was  during  those  two  years  of  labor  that  he  made 
the  acquaintance  of  many  of  the  distinguished  literary 
men  of  Massachusetts,  and  in  one  of  those  years  — 1855 
—  he  secured  the  acquaintance  and  friendship  of  Wil 
liam  Makepeace  Thackeray,  who  visited  this  country 
then  for  the  second  time,  and  delivered  his  long- 
remembered  lectures  on  the  "English  Humorists  of 
the  Eighteenth  Century,"  and  "The  Four  Georges." 
So  well  known,  and  so  much  respected  had  Mr.  Tay 
lor  become,  that  he  was  sought  by  the  great  of  both 
continents,  and  when  he  departed  for  Europe,  in  the 
spring  of  1856,  the  kind  wishes  of  thousands  of 
America's  representative  men  and  women  went  with 
him,  and  a  welcome  awaited  him  on  the  shores  of 
England  from  as  many  more. 


252  LIFE    Or    liAVAKD    TAYLOR. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

Visit  to  Europe. —  Reception  in  England.  —  Company  in  Charge.  — 
Starts  for  Sweden.  —  Stockholm.  —  The  Dangerous  Ride.  —  The 
Severe  Cold.  — Arrival  in  Lapland.  —  First  Experience  with  Canoes 
and  Reindeers.  —  Becomes  a  Lapp.  —  The  Extreme  North.  —  The 
Days  without  a  Sun.  —  "  Yankee  Doodle."  —  The  Return.  —  Study 
in  Stockholm.  —  Return  to  Germany  and  London.  —  Embarks  for 
Norway.  —  Meets  his  Friend  at  Christiania.  —  The  Coast  of  Nor 
way. —  The  Midnight  Sun.  —  Trip  across  Norway  and  Sweden. — 
Return  to  Germany. 

WITHOUT  bringing  the  living  into  a  notoriety  which 
they  certainly  do  not  seek,  and  which  might  be  un 
pleasant  for  them,  we  cannot  give  an  extended  account 
of  that  summer  trip  of  Mr.  Taylor  and  his  friends  in 
the  countries  of  Europe,  already  so  familiar  to  him. 
He  devoted  himself  to  the  welfare  of  his  companions, 
and.  appeared  to  enjoy  himself  exceedingly.  England 
appeared  brighter  and  more  attractive  than  he  supposed 
it  possible ;  and  his  pleasure  in  visiting  historical 
places  was  doubled  by  the  fact  that  he  had  others  to 
appreciate  and- enjoy  it  with  him.  His  sisters  inherited 
enough  of  that  same  instinctive  comprehension  of 
vegetable  nature,  and  enough  of  that  fellowship  with 
kindred  human  nature,  to  regard  the  landscapes  and 
the  people  as  he  had  regarded  them,  and  made,  as 
he  \vrote  to  his  friends  in  Philadelphia,  wonderfully 


RECEPTION  IN  ENGLAND.  253 

observing  travellers.  Other  friends  there  were,  who, 
with  his  brother,  made  up  a  pleasant  party,  over  which 
Mr.  Taylor  was  for  the  time  the  guide  and  protector. 
He  visited  many  places  where  he  had  never  been  before, 
but  he  had  studied  his  theme  so  closely  during  his  previ 
ous  visits  to  Europe  that  even  in  strange  places  he  felt 
the  gratification  of  one  who  had  been  there  before, 
and  to  whom  each  scene  and  relic  was  familiar.  His 
little  party  was  often  interrupted  by  the  calls  made 
upon  him  to  attend  dinner-parties  and  select  gather 
ings  of  literary  people  ;  but  he  was  not  a  neglectful 
escort.  His  acquaintance  with  the  men  and  women  of 
London  whose  names  are  known  to  all  readers  of  Eng 
lish  literature,  was  promoted  very  much  by  the  kind 
ness  of  Mr.  Thackeray,  who  spared  no  pains  to  intro 
duce  Mr.  Taylor  into  that "  charmed  circle."  No  one  can 
appreciate  the  pleasure  there  was  in  being  introduced 
to  the  authors  of  whom  the  world  has  said  so  much, 
unless  he  has  followed  them  like  a  friend  through  their 
various  volumes  and  learned  to  love  them  there. 
Historians,. essayists,  biographers,  poets,  musical  com 
posers,  and  scientific  authors  clasped  his  hand  in 
London  and  welcomed  him  to  their  homes  and  their 
love.  At  last  he  felt  that  he  had  reached  the  height? 

O 

for  which  he  had  been  striving,  and  was  regarded  as 
an  equal  by  those  whose  plane  of  thought  he  had  so 
long  striven  to  reach.  But  that  feeling  had  its  reac 
tion,  for  he  often  examined  himself  and  repeated  to 
hunself  his  published  poetry,  and,  as  he  described  it 


254  LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

himself,  wondered  what  there  could  be  in  it  worthy  of 
reproduction  in  Old  England.  His  association  with 
the  master-minds  of  England  opened  to  him  a  wider 
field  of  literature,  and  impressed  him  with  the  impor 
tance  of  writing  something  loftier  and  more  artistic 
than  anything  he  yet  had  undertaken.  To  that  task 
he  turned  all  the  forces  of  his  nature  ;  so  that  on  leav 
ing  England  his  friends  noticed  through  all  his  vivacity 
and  unceasing  attention  a  tendency  to  abstraction  ;  as 
though  some  important  theme  unspoken  was  upper 
most  in  his  mind.  He  was  searching  for  an  ideal 
which  should  not  copy  Tennyson,  nor  Wordsworth, 
nor  Browning,  but  should  equal  theirs  in  conception 
and  execution.  He  felt  that  irresistible  yearning  for 
the  highest  poetical  work,  which  is  the  surest  indica 
tion  of  genius.  He  was  not  egotistic,  he  was  not  fool 
ishly  ambitious,  but  all  his  life  he  had  been  seeking 
his  place  in  the  realms  of  poetry,  feeling  morally  sure, 
notwithstanding  his  own  temporary  misgivings,  that 
there  was  a  great  work  for  him  to  do. 

However,  the  needs  of  the  present  crowded  out  the 
dreams  of  the  future,  as  they  so  often  do  in  the  lives 
of  others,  and  after  a  delightful  summer  in  the  lands  he 
loved,  and  a  visit  to  those  who  were  now  dearer  than 
the  most  gorgeous  landscapes,  he  determined  upon  a 
trip  to  the  frozen  regions  of  Lapland.  He  undertook 
that  journey  with  evident  reluctance.  His  communion 
with  the  best  minds  of  America  and  Europe  had  taught 
him  that  of  the  works  which  he  had  published  his 


llfillillliiiil 


UIS    AMBITION.  255 

poetry  would  live  much  longer  than  his  travels.  lie 
found  that  the  place  of  a  poet  in  the  scale  of  human 
merit  was  loftier  than  that  of  a  journalistic  traveller. 
He  had  left  home  with  a  feeling  of  uncertainty  about 
his  future  course ;  but  there  was  no  longer  hesitation 
or  doubt.  He  would  follow  out  the  routes  laid  out  and 
keep  his  promises  to  the  newspapers  and  publishers, 
and  was  determined  to  acquire  an  insight  into  the 
Scandinavian  language  in  view  of  an  enterprise  in  the 
way  of  translation,  which,  however,  was  never  fully 
matured  nor  undertaken.  But  his  interest  in  travel 
had  lost  its  chiefest  charms.  It  would  not,  could  not, 
satisfy  his  ambition.  Some  critics  have  accounted  for 
this  lack  of  zeal  by  the  nearness  of  his  marriage,  which 
would  take  him  from  his  wanderings.  But  the  best 
reason  is  the  one  he  gave  himself;  viz.,  that  he  desired 
to  undertake  some  more  permanent  task  —  one  that 
should  live  when  his  travels  were  forgotten. 

Hence,  that  indescribable  lack  which  his  readers 
have  so  universally  found  in  his  books  of  travels  pub 
lished  after  that  date.  He  could  not  rid  himself  of  the 
burden,  nor  cease  to  ponder  upon  the  subjects  which 
seemed  worthy  of  a  great  poem. 

Starting  from  Germany  Dec.  1,  1856,  and  embark 
ing  on  a  steamer  which  ran  between  Lubec  and  Stock 
holm,  he  entered  upon  an  undertaking  more  hazard 
ous  and  uncomfortable  than  anything  he  had  ventured 
upon  before.  But  his  experience  taught  him  to  feai 
nothing  and  to  move  on  so  long  as  any  other  living 


256  LIFE    OF    BAYARD    TAYLOR. 

being  had  lived  on  the  same  route.  He  had  deter 
mined  to  see  a  day  without  a  sunrise  and  a  night  with 
out  a  sunset.  To  be  able  to  state  that  fact  in  a  book, 
would,  in  itself,  ensure  its  ready  sale.  Of  this  he 
had  been  assured  in  New  York  by  his  friend  Dr.  E. 
K.  Kane,  whose  opinion  was  entitled  to  much  consid 
eration,  as  the  Doctor  had  been  far  more  extensively 
engaged  in  explorations,  and  had  travelled  many 
thousand  miles  further  than  Mr.  Taylor.  Having 
once  decided  to  see  that  wonderful  sight,  nothing  in 
the  way  of  privation  could  prevent  the  accomplishment 
of  his  purpose. 

The  steamer  from  Lubec  was  a  rough,  uncouth,  incon 
venient  craft,  and  the  sea-sick  voyage  which  Mr.  Tay 
lor  and  his  friend  made  to  Stockholm  was  not  an 
auspicious  beginning  for  a  tour  so  long  and  so  danger 
ous.  But  he  relapsed  into  his  old  habit,  acquired  in 
Asia,  of  regarding  no  delay  with  surprise  or  impa 
tience,  and  refusing  to  feel  certain  of  anything  until 
he  possessed  it ;  and  as  neither  carelessness,  neglect, 
lack  of  sleep  or  food  was  allowed  to  disturb  him,  he 
made  the  company  cheerful  under  the  most  distressing 
circumstances. 

On  his  arrival  in  Stockholm  he  could  not  speak  a 
word  of  the  language,  and  had  to  depend  mostly  upon 
his  own  common-sense  in  the  selection  of  an  outfit. 
But  his  quick  car  and  tractile  tongue  soon  caught  up 
words  and  phrases,  the  meaning  of  which  he  learned  by 
their  effect  when  spoken,  and  when  he  started  north- 


TRIP    TO    LAPLAND.  257 

ward  he  was  able  to  ask  tor  nearly  everything  he 
needed  in  the  native  language.  Of  his  ride  from  town 
to  town,  by  diligence  and  by  lumbjcring  sleighs,  along 
the  shores  of  the  Bothnian  Gulf,  we  cannot  give  any 
extended  account,  and  it  can  easily  be  found  by  any 
reader  who  did  not  peruse  it  at  the  time  of  its  publi 
cation.  But  it  answers  our  purpose  to  note  how  he 
appeared  and  what  he  suffered.  It  was  a  terrible  ride. 
Day  after  day  and  night  after  night  he  pushed  on, 
losing  many  meals,  and  often  without  sleep,  in  a 
temperature  creeping  downward  far  below  zero,  and 
the  sun  sinking  lower  and  lower  on  the  southern  hori 
zon.  Frequently  overturned  in  the  snow,  his  beard 
and  hair  a  mass  of  solid  ice,  his  eyelids  frozen  together, 
his  nose  frost-bitten,  his  hands  and  feet  momentarily 
in  danger  of  freezing,  he  kept  heroically  on  his  course, 
allowing  no  rumors  of  unendurable  cold  or  impassable 
mountains  of  snow  ahead  to  drive  him  from  his  pur 
pose.  With  a  wisdom  that  saved  his  life,  he  fell  with 
perfect  abandon  into  the  habits  of  Swedes,  Finns,  and 
Lapps,  as  he  in  turn  found  himself  in  their  country 
and  society,  eating  what  they  ate,  and  wearing  such 
skins  as  they  wore,  and  following  their  habits,  except 
ing  their  dirt  and  their  promiscuous  arrangements  for 
sleeping.  Around  the  gulf  to  Tornea,  and  thence  to 
Muoniovara,  he  sped  northward  with  a  haste  which 
astonished  the  natives,  and  a  shortness  of  time  which 
has  surprised  many  travellers  who  have  followed  him 
on  that  difficult  route.  He  made  such  acquaintances 


258  LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

and  such  friends  on  his  way  northward  that  they 
wished  him  God-speed  as  he  passed  on,  and  welcomed 
him  in  a  royal  manner  on  his  return.  On  the  borders 
of  Lapland  he  took  his  first  lessons  in  reindeer-driving, 
and  a  most  amusing  experience  he  had  of  it.  He 
could  not  at  first  balance  himself  in  the  narrow  boat 
which  was  built  for  snow  navigation,  and  he  was  fre 
quently  overturned  in  fathomless  piles  of  snow ;  and 
as  he  did  not  fully  understand  how  to  check  the  speed 
of  the  animal,  he  flew  like  the  wind  over  drifts,  hol 
lows,  and  around  corners  with  a  most  dangerous 
speed.  Many  men  would  have  given  up  the  task, 
after  being  frozen,  kicked,  bruised,  and  pulled  half  out 
of  joint  by  the  first  trial.  But  such  experiences  were 
regarded  by  him  as  a  joke,  and  laughing  over  past  mis 
haps,  he  tried  again  and  again,  until  he  could  guide  a 
deer  and  balance  himself  in  the  narrow  pulk  as  skil 
fully  as  the  Lapps  themselves.  He  was  not  a  traveller 
who  sought  luxury  and  ease.  He  wished  to  sound  all 
the  shoals  and  depths  of  local  experiences.  Some  of 
the  trials  were  very  hazardous,  and  make  one's  hair 
rise  as  he  reads  of  them.  Yet  Mr.  Taylor  appears  to 
have  put  a  blind  trust  in  fate  and  went  boldly  on.  In 
all  these  visits  and  undertakings  he  forgot  not  his 
Muse,  and  repeated  "  Afraja "  and  the  "Arctic  Lover" 
when  the  snow  blew  too  furiously  or  the  cold  was  too 
far  below  zero  to  engage  in  original  composition. 

With  the  thermometer  varying  from  zero  to  forty 
degrees  below  he  traversed  the  wildest  part  of  Lap- 


THE   LONG   NIGHT.  259 

land,  which  lies  between  the  Bothnian  Gulf  and  the 
Northern  Ocean. 

At  Kautockeino,  far  beyond  the  Arctic  Circle,  he 
found  friends,  through  the  letter  of  a  mutual  acquaint 
ance,  and  recorded  with  his  usual  kindness  of  heart, 
how  good  and  how  generous  they  were  to  him.  There, 
too,  he  saw  the  day  without  a  sunrise,  which  he  had 
promised  himself  to  see,  and  his  description  of  the 
white  earth,  the  blue  sky,  the  saffron  and  orange  flushes 
of  the  morning,  and  the  crimson  glow  of  the  evening, 
all  combined  in  a  few  moments  of  time  as  the  sun  ap 
proached  the  line  of  the  horizon  and  sank  again  without 
peeping  over  it,  is  one  of  the  most  charming  and 
graphic  paragraphs  to  be  found  in  literature.  There, 
too,  he  saw  the  moon  wheel  through  her  entire  circuit, 
withovt  ci  rising  and  without  a  setting.  There  he 
made  sketches  of  the  dwellings  and  the  people  which, 
after  so  much  practice,  he  was  able  to  take  in  a  very 
accurate  and  artistic  manner,  and  which  served  after 
wards  for  illustrations  in  the  pages  of  a  magazine. 
There  he  met  a  Lapp  by  the  name  of  "Lars,"  and 
meeting  the  name  often  afterwards,  suggested  the 
name  for  that  poem  of  "Lars,"  now  as  popular  in  Nor 
way  as  in  the  United  States.  There,  in  that  extreme 
north,  in  the  house  of  a  native  missionary,  he  found  a 
piano,  and  was  half  beside  himself  with  joy  when  the 
kind-hearted  minister's  wife  played  "  Yankee  Doodle." 
She  had  heard  Ole  Bull  play  it  at  Christiania,  and 
caught  the  tune  in  that  way. 


260  LIFE    OF   BAYARD   TAYLOR. 

His  return  to  Stockholm  was  more  tedious  and  dan 
gerous  than  his  northward  journey,  for  the  weather  was 
colder  and  the  storms  more  severe.  But  his  reception 
at  the  miserable  huts  along  the  route,  where  he  had 
stopped  on  his  journey  northward,  was  always  so 
hearty  and  friendly  that  he  felt  no  longer  in  a  strange 
land.  It  was  a  repetition  of  his  experience  elsewhere. 
He  was  loved  at  sight,  and  has  not  been  forgotten  to 
this  day  by  the  humble  friends  he  made.  Nothing 
shows  the  whole-souled  manner  in  which  he  threw  him 
self  into  the  feelings  and  habits  of  the  people,  better 
than  the  expressions  which  he  used  in  his  letters  con 
cerning  the  scenery.  He  felt  so  much  like  a  Swede, 
that  he  loved  the  landscapes  with  the  devotion  of  a 
native.  Notwithstanding  he  had  used  all  the  superlative 
terms  which  our  language  furnished,  in  which  to  de 
scribe  the  scenery  of  the  tropics,  yet  there  he  went 
further  and  declares  with  great  enthusiasm,  that  the 
South  had  no  such  beautiful  scenery  as  the  ice-bound 
forests  and  mountains  of  Sweden.  To  him,  when  he 
saw  them,  there  were  no  landscapes  to  compare  with 
those  before  him.  The  transparent  crystals,  the  purity 
of  the  snow,  the  shape  of  the  half-buried  trees,  the 
boundless  plains  of  white,  and  the  gleams  of  acres  of 
diamonds  when  the  frosty  spirals  greet  the  morning 
sun,  all  possessed  a  charm  beyond  the  attractions  of 
any  other  land,  so  long  as  he  was  their  associate.  He 
became  a  Swede,  and  knew,  when  his  experience  was 
over,  just  how  a  Swede  lived  and  how  he  felt,  what  he 


RETURN  TO  THE  SOUTH.  261 

loved  and  what  he  enjoyed.  Thus  he  came  to  a  more 
thorough  understanding  of  the  people,  and  had  a  better 
appreciation  of  their  literature,  than  any  other  traveller 
known  to  the  public  prints. 

On  his  return  to  Stockholm,  February  14,  he  set 
about  the  work  of  learning  the  language  and  literature 
of  the  Swedes.  For  nearly  three  months  he  kept  close 
to  his  books  and  his  practice  in  the  gymnasium,  and 
although  it  seems  almost  impossible,  it  is  said  by  his 
associates  that  he  could  then  read  fluently  any  work  to 
be  found  in  the  Norse  language. 

He  left  Stockholm  on  the  6th  of  May,  taking  a 
steamer  for  Copenhagen,  from  which  place  he  purposed 
to  take  a  steamer  for  Germany.  At  Copenhagen  he 
met  Hans  Christian  Andersen,  the  great  Danish  poet, 
by  whom  Mr.  Taylor  was  received  most  cordially. 
Thus,  one  after  another,  the  great  men  of  the  world 
were  added  to  the  list  of  friends  found  by  this  son 
of  an  humble  American  farmer.  Andersen  afterwards 
sent  Mr.  Taylor  copies  of  his  poems  and  essays  before 
they  were  printed,  and  in  many  ways  showed  his  regard 
for  the  American  poet.  There  Mr.  Taylor  met  Prof. 
Kafn,  the  archaeologist,  and  Goldschmidt,  the  author  of 
the  "The  Jew,"  and  editor  of  a  magazine. 

Prof.  Rafn,  gave  Mr.  Taylor  his  initiation  into  the 
beauties  of  Icelandic  poetry,  for  the  professor  was  an 
earnest  admirer  of  northern  lore,  and  loved  to  converse 
with  any  one  who  took  an  interest  in  it.  He  read  some 
of  the  verses  which  he  especially  admired,  for  Mr.  Tay- 


262  LIFE    OF  BAYARD   TAYLOK. 

lor's  criticism,  and  Mr.  Taylor  was  so  delighted  with 
thqm  that  he  resolved  to  study  the  literature  of  Iceland 
and  at  some  time  to  visit  the  Island. 

From  Copenhagen  Mr.  Taylor  hurried  over  to  Ger 
many  to  look  after  his  friends,  and  after  a  stay  of  a  few 
clays  hastened  to  London  on  business  connected  with 
his  books.  He  left  London  about  the  first  of  July, 
after  seeing  his  relatives  depart  for  America,  and 
taking  a  steamer  at  Hull,  sailed  for  Christiania  in 
Norway.  The  steamer  stopped  at  Christiansand, 
where  the  rugged,  broken  promontories  loom  up 
so  grandly  over  sea  and  bay.  No  harbor  is  more  pic 
turesque  than  that  of  Christiansand,  and  no  coast 
more  uneven.  Perhaps  the  best  description  of  the 
coast  from  Christiansand  to  Avendal,  given  by  Mr. 
Taylor,  is  to  be  found  in  his  poem  of  "Lars," 
wherein  Lars  and  his  Quaker  wife  sailed  from  Hull  foi 
Apendal. 

"  Cairn  autumn  skies  were  o'er  them  and  the  sea 
Swelled  in  unwrinkled  glass  :  they  scarcely  knew 
How  sped  the  voyage  until  Lindesnaes, 
At  first  a  cloud,  stood  fast  and  spread  away 
To  flanking  capes,  with  gaps  of  blue  between ; 
Then  rose,  and  showed,  above  the  precipice, 
The  firs  of  Norway  climbing  thick  and  high 
To  wilder  crests  that  made  the  inland  gloom. 
In  front,  the  sprinkled  skerries  pierced  the  wave; 
Between  then,  slowly  glided  in  and  out 
The  tawny  sails,  while  houses  low  and  red 
Hailed  their  return  or  sent  them  fearless  forth. 
'  This  is  thy  Norway,  Lars;  it  looks  like  thce,' 
Said  Ruth  :  '  it  has  a  forehead  firm  and  bold : 


THE   LONG   DAT.  263 

It  sets  its  foot  below  the  reach  of  storms, 
Yet  hides,  methinks,  in  each  retiring  vale, 
Delight  in  toil,  contentment,  love,  and  peace.'" 

"  '  To  starboard,  yonder  lies  the  isle 
As  I  described  it ;  here,  upon  our  lee 
Is  mainland  all,  and  there  the  Nid  comes  down, 
The  timber-shouldering  Nid,  from  endless  woods 
And  wilder  valleys  where  scant  grain  is  grown. 
Now  bend  your  glances  as  my  finger  points,  — 
Lo,  there  it  is,  the  spire  of  ApendaU  " 

Arrangements  had  been  made  with  his  intimate  Ger 
man  friend,  whom  he  first  met  in  Egypt,  and  in  whom 
Mr.  Taylor  then  took  such  a  deep  interest,  to  meet  him 
at  the  hotel  in  Christiania,  from  which  place  they  pur 
posed  to  start  on  a  trip  overland  through  Norway  to 
Dronthiem,  and  from  that  city  by  steamer  to  the 
northern  capes  of  Norway,  where  the  summer  sun  did 
not  rise  or  set.  Another  "  sacred  triad '  was  formed 
—  one  German  and  two  Americans  —  equally  fortunate 
and  equally  pleasant  with  the  former  triad  in  Egypt. 

Their  course  lay  through  the  rugged  and  drear  land 
scape  of  Southern  Norway,  and  at  the  time  they  made 
their  journey  the  sky  was  overcast  and  the  air  loaded 
with  moisture,  giving  every  bleak  cliff  a  bleaker  appear 
ance,  and  every  barren  waste  a  gloomier  aspect.  With 
all  his  poetical  nature,  Mr.  Taylor  did  not  find  much 
to  admire  on  his  way  to  Drontheim.  His  sympathy 
was  aroused  for  the  poor  farmers  who  dwell  in  such  a 
solitude  as  seemed  to  envelop  the  land,  and  be  was  glad 


264  LIFE    OF    BAYARD    TAYLOR. 

when  the  gleams  of  the  river  announced  their  approach 
to  Drontheim. 

From  Drontheim  they  sailed  by  the  Hammerfest  line 
on  the  18th  of  July,  following  the  coast  so  noted  for 
its  fantastic  crags  and  startling  cliffs.  The  coast 
scenery  from  Drontheim  to  Hammerfest  is  unquestion 
ably  the  most  broken  and  grand  in  the  world.  Its 
black  towers,  enormous  arches,  gigantic  peaks,  and 
resounding  caverns  excel  anything  in  the  way  of  sombre 
grandeur  that  travellers  elsewhere  have  described. 

As  they  approached  the  Arctic  Circle  the  mountains 
became  capped  with  snow,  and  chilly  winds  blew  off 
the  land,  and  the  days  became  so  long  that  the  evening 
and  the  morning  succeeded  each  other  with  but  an 
intervening  twilight.  Gradually  the  midnights  grew 
brighter  until,  as  they  proceeded  round  the  North  Cupe, 
the  sun  shone  in  all  its  splendor  throughout  the 
twenty-four  hours. 

After  several  days  spent  in  visiting  the  small  fishing 
villages  along  the  northern  coast,  they  again  turned 
southward  and  disembarked  at  Drontheim,  from  which 
place  they  took  passage  to  Bergen. 

From  Bergen  they  travelled  on  horseback  and  by 
boats,  over  the  interior  lakes  to  Christiania,  and  from 
that  city  through  the  interior  of  Wcrmeland  and  Dr,le- 
carlia  to  Stockholm,  where  they  arrived  about  the 
middle  of  September.  There  Mr.  Taylor  rema'ned 
long  enough  to  call  on  many  of  the  friends  whot  \  he 
had  made  during  the  previous  winter,  and  then  the 
tf triad"  departed  for  Berlin  and  Gotha. 


HIS    MARRIAGE.  265 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

His  Marriage.  —  German  Relatives.  —  Intention  of  visiting  Siberia, 
—  Goes  to  Greece  instead.  —  Dalmatia.  — Spolato.  —  Arrival  at 
Athens.  —  His  first  View  of  the  Propylaea. —  The  Parthenon. — 
Excursion  to  Crete.  —  Earthquake  at  Corinth. —  Mycenae. — 
Sparta.  —  The  Ruins  of  Olympia.  —  Visit  to  Thermopylae. — 
Anlks.  —  Return  to  Athens.  — His  Acquirements. 

MR.  TAYLOR  was  married  in  October  following  his 
return  from  Norway  and  Sweden,  to  Marie  Hansen, 
whose  father  had  already  gained  a  world-wide  reputa 
tion  as  an  astronomer  through  his  works  on  Physical 
Astronomy,  and  was  then  winning  renown  for  his rf  Tables 
de  la  Lune,"  for  which  lie  was  given  a  prize  by  the 
English  Government,  as  a  public  benefactor.  He  waa 
a  man  of  remarkable  mathematical  genius,  universally 
respected,  and  the  founder  of  the  Erfurt  Observatory 
near  Gotha.  It  was  a  family  of  scholars  which  re 
ceived  Mr.  Taylor  as  a  son  and  brother,  and  a  fortunate 
alliance  for  the  world  of  letters.  It  would  be  inter 
esting  to  our  readers,  no  doubt,  to  know  all  about  the 
ceremony,  the  guests,  the  letters,  and  the  relatives. 
But  that  which  at  some  future  day  may  be  elevated  to 
the  plane  of  history,  would  be  mere  gossip  now  ;  and 
could  only  serve,  for  the  present,  to  bring  more  vividly 


266  LIFE    OF   BAYARD   TAYLOR. 

before  his  loved  ones  living,  the  greatness  and  reality 
of  their  loss. 

Not  even  such  an  event  as  his  marriage  was  allowed 
to  interfere  with  his  work.  His  travels  in  the  North 
had  been  in  a  great  measure  described  in  detail  from 
day  to  day,  as  he  stopped  for  food  and  rest,  and  when 
he  left  Stockholm  for  Germany,  a  large  pile  of  manu 
script  had  accumulated,  which  needed  correction  and 
arrangement  before  being  sent  to  his  publishers  in  New 
York.  To  this  he  applied  himself  closely,  and  a 
month  after  his  marriage,  was  in  London  making  the 
closing  arrangements  for  the  appearance  of  his  book 
on  "Northern  Travel,"  published  by  G.  P.  Putnam 
&  Sons,  and  containing  a  condensed  account  of  his 
winter  and  summer  in  the  Norse  countries. 

Immediately  after  despatching  the  manuscript  for 
the  book,  together  with  several  letters  for  the  press,  he 
made  his  preparations  for  a  winter's  sojourn  in  Greece. 
He  had  purposed  to  take  a  trip  from  St.  Petersburg 
across  the  continent  of  Asia,  through  Siberia  to  Kamt- 
schatka,  and  re  turning  through  Persia  and  by  the  shores 
of  the  Black  Sea.  But  it  appears  that  neither  Mr. 
Greeley,  nor  Mr.  Putnam,  nor  his  German  relatives 
approved  of  the  undertaking,  which,  together  with 
some  unsatisfactory  financial  details,  caused  him  to 
abandon  the  snows  of  Siberia  for  the  sunshine  of  At 
tica. 

This  arrangement  must  have  been  a  far  more  pleas 
ant  one  for  him,  as  Mrs.  Taylor  and  other  friends  could 


DEPARTURE  FOR  GREECE.  26? 

accompany  him  to  Athens,  and  as  that  land  was  so 
connected  with  the  richest  themes  for  poets  and  schol 
ars.  Many  of  Byron's  poems  had  been  favorites  with 
Mr.  Taylor  from  his  boyhood,  and  especially  familiar 
were  those  passages  relating  to  Greece  ;  for  the  read 
ing-books  in  use  by  American  scholars,  in  his  school 
days,  contained,  very  wisely,  several  selections  from 
Byron's  patriotic  poems  relating  to  Greece.  To  this 
was  added  an  appreciation  of  "  Childe  Harold,"  gained 
by  visiting  the  Italian  scenery  where  Byron  lived  dur 
ing  those  years  of  his  voluntary  exile. 

The  party  left  Gotha  in  the  early  part  of  December, 
1857,  and  going  down  the  Dalmatian  coast  of  the  Ad 
riatic  Gulf,  visited  the  ancient  town  of  Spolato,  where 
the  ruins  of  the  Emperor  Diocletian's  palaces  are  still 
imposing  and  beautiful.  Without  losing  the  steamer, 
which  put  in  at  all  the  small  ports  along  the  route,  they 
skirted  the  southern  shores  of  the  Gulf  of  Corinth ; 
and,  after  crossing  the  Isthmus  near  Ancient  Corinth, 
sailed  direct  for  Piraeus. 

To  a  man  of  Mr.  Taylor's  mental  capacity  and  dis 
position,  the  country  afforded  the  means  for  the  highest 
enjoyment.  Men  may  be  as  unsentimental  as  a  beast, 
and  as  regardless  of  ancient  greatness  as  a  savage, 
and  yet  their  lives  will  be  influenced  more  or  less  by  a 
sojourn  in  old  Greece.  Later  philosophers  declare, 
and  attempt  to  prove  it  on  scientific  principles,  that 
the  topography  of  the  country,  added  to  the  influences 
of  the  climate,  produced  he  great  minds  of  ancient 


268  LIFE    OF    BAYARD    TAYLOR. 

Greece.  If  so,  which  may  be  wholly  or  partially  true, 
then  the  same  hills  and  the  same  valleys,  combined  with 
the  same  climate,  must  influence  the  mental  characteris 
tics  of  those  who  live  there  now.  If,  however,  as  is 
too  frequently  the  fact  to  make  a  clear  case  of  the 
philosophers'  claims,  men  do  reside  under  the  Acropolis 
and  in  the  Academian  groves  wholly  unaffected  by  the 
scenery,  certain  it  is  that  to  a  poet  whose  whole  ambi 
tion  and  only  joy  was  found  in  a  determination  to  follow 
the  lead  of  Homer,  Siinonides,  and  Tyrtaeus,  it  was  an 
ecstasy  of  mental  satisfaction  to  feel  the  influence  of 
the  surround  ing  associations.  Even  Mr.  Taylor  feared 
that  his  name  as  a  poet  would  lead  people  to  consider 
his  descriptions  to  be  somewhat  colored  by  the  imag 
ination,  and  labored  hard  to  avoid  the  imputation.  He, 
with  great  candor  and  truth,  claimed  that  men  arc  as 
great  as  they  were  in  the  days  of  Demosthenes  and 
Aristidcs,  although  the  community  to  which  they  be 
longed  has  moved  farther  west.  He  did  not  believe 
that  all  the  great  and  noble  and  good  belonged  to  the 
past.  He  recognized  the  great  fact  that  dead  men 
have  better  reputations  than  living  ones,  and  that  the 
longer  a  man  lies  in  his  grave  the  greater  seem  his  vir 
tues,  and  the  less  the  number  and  magnitude  of  his 
faults,  i.  e.  if  he  is  not  forgotten  altogether.  So, 
Mr.  Taylor  inserted  such  thoughts  in  his  letters  and 
conversation,  for  the  sake  of  seasoning  his  enthusiasm, 
which  he  feared  was  too  active.  But  it  was  as  useless 
for  him  as  it  was  for  Byron,  and  as  it  has  been  for  other 


WINTER   IN   GREECE.  269 

American  poets  who  visited  those  ancient  groves,  to 
keep  above  or  outside  the  subtle  and  powerful  influ 
ences  which  Greece  puts  forth.  Oh  !  land  of  heroes, 
patriots,  poets,  philosophers,  orators,  and  musicians  ! 
Oh,  land  of  republics  and  birth-place  of  fleets  !  How 
like  a  visit  to  the  homes  of  Solon,  Plato,  Socrates,  and 
Polycrates  it  is  to  walk  thy  fields,  and  how  like  a  flight 
to  the  homes  of  the  gods,  to  dream  through  thy  moon 
lit  nights  ! 

Mr.  Taylor  made  the  most  of  his  winter  in  Greece, 
and  visited  every  place  of  ancient  renown  which  was 
accessible  to  travellers.  He  scarcely  waited  for  the 
dawn  of  his  first  day  in  Athens  before  he  hastened  to 
the  Acropolis,  and  admired  its  marvels  and  historical 
suggestions.  At  the  Propylaea,  which  crowns  the 
mountain  with  beauty  and  majesty,  where  all  the 
destructive  inventions  of  two  thousand  years  have 
failed  to  annihilate  the  monument  which  Phidias  and 
Calicrates  erected  to  their  genius,  Mr.  Taylor  was 
overwhelmed  with  emotions,  and  gazed  with  wonder  at 
the  chaste  sculpture  which  adorns  the  most  graceful 
structure  ever  made  of  marble,  and  in  silent  awe  con 
templated  the  pillars,. cornices,  tablets,  pavements,  and 
.broken  ornaments  with  which  he  was  surrounded. 
Where  was  the  Coliseum  he  had  praised  so  much  when 
a  boy  ?  Where  were  the  cathedrals,  palaces,  and  castles 
he  had  regarded  as  so  sublime?  Everything  he  had 
seen  sank  into  insignificance  beside  the  ponderous  yet 
exquisitely  beautiful  pile  before  him.  He  was  so 


270  LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

affected,  that  when  he  spoke  he  whispered,  as  if  in  the 
presence  of  Jupiter,  and  his  eyes  grew  moist  as  he 
tried  to  compass  the  grandeur  of  the  lofty  Parthenon 
and  Propylaea.  This  language  will  seem  extravagant 
to  the  reader  who  has  not  felt  such  sensations.  The 
writer,  who  makes  no  pretensions  of  being  a  poet 
either  in  letters  or  by  nature,  has  been  so  filled  with 
the  unspeakable  grandeur  of  some  of  the  scenes  from 
the  heights  of  the  Alps,  Himalayas,  and  Rocky  Moun 
tains,  as  to  find  himself,  to  his  own  surprise,  shedding 
copious  streams  of  tears.  It  is  a  sensation  unknown 
to  common  experience,  and  our  language  has  no  ade 
quate  terms  with  which  to  describe  it.  Such  a  feeling, 
beyond  a  doubt,  was  that  which  reigned  in  his  sensitive 
nature  when  he  stood  in  the  porch  of  the  Parthenon. 
To  him,  those  marvels  of  art  produced  the  impression 
which  nothing  but  the  mightiest  mountain-peaks  could 
awaken  in  others.  It  must  have  been  grand  to  possess 
such  a  nature ;  and  it  is  grand  to  follow  him  through 
his  letters  and  books.  There  was  the  crowning  point 
of  all  his  travel.  It  had  been  reserved  until  near  the 
end  of  his  wanderings,  and  a  fitting  climax  it  was. 
The  poet  and  traveller  amid  the  ruins  of  Athens  !  He 
spent  many  happy  hours  amid  the  crumbling  evidences 
of  Athenian  greatness.  Temples  uncounted  lay  half- 
buried  in  the  broken  soil.  Those  of  Demeter,  Her 
cules,  Apollo,  Aphrodite,  Hephaestus,  Theseus,  Dios 
curi,  could  be  traced  in  the  earth,  or  confronted  the 
antiquarian  with  majestic  porches;  while  the  Odeon, 


ATHENS.  271 

Gymnasium,  Museum,  Aglaurium,  Lyceum,  Prytanae- 
um,  Erechtheum,  Propylaea,  and  Parthenon,  can  easily 
be  reconstructed  in  the  imagination  of  any  student  of 
Greek  history  with  the  aid  of  their  wonderful  ruins. 
And  when  those  colossal  edifices  stand  forth  in  their 
beauty,  it  is  but  a  step  to  the  sublimest  dreams,  wherein 
Socrates,  Anaxagoras,  Pericles,  Eschylus,  Sophocles, 
Ictinus,  Mnesicles,  and  their  noble  cotemporaries, 
walked  through  the  colonnades,  along  the  paved  streets, 
and  among  the  verdant,  classic  groves  which  bordered 
on  the  Ilissus.  The  walls  of  Athens,  extending  from 
Hymettus  to  the  distant  sea,  the  city  crowded  with  the 
wealth  of  the  commercial  world,  and  the  fields  as 
verdant  and  fruitful  as  now. 

Mr.  Taylor  often  remarked  that  he  should  never 
have  been  a  successful  traveller  had  he  not  been  a  poet ; 
and  it  might  be  added  that  persons,  in  whom  the 
power  to  recall  the  past  through  the  debris  of  the 
present  is  wholly  lacking,  had  better  not  travel  at  all. 
There  are  hills  in  Pennsylvania,  or  New  Hampshire, 
far  more  picturesque  than  the  Acropolis,  and  on  them 
might  be  erected  a  tolerably  accurate  copy  of  the  Pro 
pylaea,  Erechtheum,  and  Parthenon  as  they  now  stand, 
and  the  curious  might  visit  them  to  observe  the  beauty 
of  the  architecture  and  remark  the  foolishness  of  those 
who  constructed  them.  Unconnected  with  any  history, 
and  the  originals  unheard  of,  they  would  be  nothing 
but  mere  monuments  to  folly,  with  all  their  symmetry. 
Take  away  from  Athens  the  records  of  its  grand 


272  LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

humanity ;  the  stories  of  its  achievements ;  the  tales 
concerning  the  wonders  of  its  genius  ;  the  renown  of 
its  arms ;  the  memories  of  its  misfortunes ;  and  all 
the  life,  the  spirit,  that  shines  through  its  fragments, 
as  the  soul  beams  through  the  eye  of  a  loved  lace, 
would  be  extinguished,  and  no  great  good  could  come 
from  seeing  them. 

We  mention  these  things,  not  to  excuse  Mr.  Taylor 
for  his.  strong  assertions  concerning  the  effect  these 
ruins  had  upon  him,  but  to  give  to  the  student  a  clearer 
insight  into  the  nature  and  lite  of  the  poet,  Bayard 
Taylor.  From  Athens,  after  visiting  the  king  and 
queen,  Mr.  Taylor  made  excursions  into  the  interior, 
and  to  the  Island  of  Crete,  visiting,  in  his  various  tours, 
Candia,  Rhithymnos,  Corinth,  Leuctra,  Mycenae,  Ar 
cadia,  Sparta,  Parnassus,  Tlatea,  Thermopylae,  and 
various  other  fields,  mountains,  and  ruins  connected 
with  ancient  Greece.  At  Crete  he  was  most  graciously 
welcomed  by  the  Turkish  governor,  and  was  treated 
with  the  most  generous  hospitality  by  the  people  and 
officials,  throughout  a  somewhat  lengthy  journey  about 
the  island.  It  was  there  that  he  mot  the  American 
consul  who  was  going  to  start  the  commerce  of  Crete 
by  bringing  in  a  cargo  of  rum  to  exchange  for  the 
products  of  the  island,  and  who  was  so  startled  by 
Mr.  Taylor's  frankly  avowed  hope,  that  the  ship  would 
be  wrecked  before  the  curse  of  drunkenness  was  added 
to  the  other  Cretan  vices.  Mr.  Taylor  gave  a  somewhat 
different  version  of  the  affair,  not  changing  however 


INTERIOR   OF   GREECE.  273 

its  exposition  of  his  sentiments  on  the  subject  of 
drunkenness.  But  it  is  to  be  supposed,  that  the  con 
sul,  who  was  so  severely  rebuked,  would  have  the 
best  reason  for  remembering  it,  and,  as  his  version 
throws  no  discredit  on  Mr.  Taylor,  and  varies  in  no 
important  particular  from  that  given  by  Mr.  Taylor, 
we  give  the  consul  the  benefit  of  the  story. 

At  Corinth  he  had  a  startling  experience  in  an  earth 
quake,  feeling  the  earth  rise  and  fall  with  that  sicken 
ing  movement,  creating  a  nausea  like  the  sea-sickness 
of  a  whole  voyage  concentrated  into  a  few  minutes,  and 
saw  the  stone  walls  of  the  house  crumbling  and  split 
ting  about  him.  He  arrived  after  the  greatest  shock 
had  passed,  or  he  would  have  seen  whole  streets  of 
buildings  thrown  down,  for  the  village  was  half  in 
ruins  when  he  reached  the  place.  Near  Corinth  he 
saw  the  plain  whereon  were  celebrated  the  Isthmian 
games  and  repeated  sections  of  Schiller's  poem,  "  The 
Gods  of  Greece." 

At  Argolis  he  saw  the  gateway  of  Mycenae,  guarded 
by  the  celebrated  stone  lions,  and  tried  to  connect 
Agamemnon  and  Orestes  with  the  landscapes. 

At  Sparta  he  trod  the  sward  above  the  buried 
palaces,  and  having  no  poets'  names  to  rhyme  with 
Lycurgus  and  Leonidas,  he  hurried  on  to  scenes  less 
suggestive  of  mere  physical  endurance  and  bloody 
encounters. 

In  Mania,  within  the  boundaries  of  ancient  Sparta, 
be  was  delighted  to  find  the  descendants  of  the  ancient 


274  LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

Greeks,  whose  blood  was  not  diluted  by  that  of  Turks, 
Slavs,  Italians,  and  Egyptians.  He  found  there  what 
no  other  part  of  Greece  visited  by  him  could  boast, 
the  Greek  face  and  form  such  as  Phidias,  Praxiteles, 
and  Lysippus  portrayed  in  their  immortal  sculptures. 
At  Olympia  he  saw  the  "  home  of  Xenophon,  and  the 
foundations  of  that  temple  of  Olympus  from  whence 
the  Greek  chronology  was  taken,  near  which  were 
celebrated  the  great  Olympian  Games,  around  which 
were  once  those  sacred  groves  so  often  mentioned  in 
Greek  poetry  and  tragedy,  and  where  the  most  artistic 
work  of  Phidias  stood,  — the  ivory  statue  of  Jupiter. 

At  Thebes  he  recalled  the  deeds  of  Pindar,  Epami- 
nondas,  and  the  heroes  of  the  Trojan  War. 

At  Delphi  he  looked  over  the  forests  that  clothe  the 
lofty  Parnassus,  gazed  into  the  rocky  cleft  from  which 
the  priestesses  received  their  communications,  and  saw 
the  sites  of  temples  used  for  gardens,  and  blocks  from 
the  sacred  shrines  used  for  cellar  walls. 

At  Thermopylae  he  marked  the  spot  where  the  heroes 
fought  and  the  narrow  gorge  where  they  fell,  with  feel 
ings  of  respect  and  pride.  He  said  that  the  story  of 
such  deeds  should  never  be  allowed  to  die. 

At  "  Aulis"  he  saw  where  Jason  launched  his  ships 
to  sail  in  search  of  the  Golden  Fleece,  and  repeated  a 
part  of  the  Argonautic  story  in  modern  Greek. 

On  all  these  journeys  Mr.  Taylor  displayed  the  same 
fearless,  adventurous  spirit,  and  was  frequently  in 
danger.  By  fortunate  accidents  be  was  prevented 


RETURN    TO    ATHENS.  275 

from  falling  into  the  hands  of  brigands,  and  re 
turned  to  Athens,  after  his  prolonged  journeys,  in 
good  health,  and  with  the  accounts  of  his  journeys 
nearly  complete  in  his  pocket. 

When  he  left  Athens  in  the  spring  for  Constanti 
nople,  he  had  become  acquainted  with  all  parts  of  ancient 
Greece,  and  was  able  to  give  to  his  readers  a  fund  of 
valuable  information  concerning  the  country  and  its 
products,  the  people  and  their  industries.  He  had 
kept  up  that  triple  life  which  characterized  all  his  later 
travels  in  Europe  and  Asia,  and  saw  everything  modern 
in  the  way  of  manners,  races,  products,  commerce, 
government,  and  everything  that  remained  of  the 
ancient  days  in  the  shape  of  monuments,  temples,  or 
•uins,  together  with  those  undefinable  yet  real  sugges- 
i«;us  which  come  to  the  poet,  and  to  him  alone. 


276  LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 


CHAPTER    XXVIII. 

From  Constantinople  to  Golha. — Visit  to  Russia.  —  Moscow  and 
St.  Petersburg.  —  Return  to  Prussia. — Arrival  in  the  United 
States.  —  Incessant  Work.  —  Lecturing  and  Travels  in  Cali 
fornia. —  The  Construction  of  Cedarcroft.  —  His  Patriotic  Ad 
dresses  and  Poems. — Visits  Germany  in  1801.  —  Anxiety  foi 
the  Fate  of  His  Nation.  —  Life  at  Cedarcroft. 

AFTER  a  short  stay  in  Constantinople,  the  party, 
under  the  guidance  of  Mr.  Taylor,  went  by  steamer  to 
the  mouth  of  the  Danube,  and  thence  up  that  river  to 
his  new  home  at  Gotha.  Mr.  Taylor  had  set  his  heart 
on  building  a  residence  in  the  oak  woodland  near  his 
old  home  at  Kennett,  and  now  that  he  was  married, 
his  anxiety  to  see  it  completed  led  him  to  think 
seriously  of  returning  at  once  to  the  United  States. 
Having,  however,  a  vague  fear  that  he  might  not  again 
visit  Europe  as  a  traveller,  and  being  unwilling  to 
leave  the  largest  empire  in  the  world  un visited,  he 
resolved  to  make  a  hasty  trip  to  Moscow  and  St. 
Petersburg.  It  was  not  a  tour  which  he  would  per 
sonally  enjoy  as  he  had  his  stay  in  Greece,  yet  it  was 
needed  to  make  complete  his  knowledge  of  Europe. 
Hence  he  hastened  away  from  Gotha,  and,  taking 
Cracow,  the  salt  mines  of  Wieliczka  and  Warsaw  in 
his  route,  arrived  at  Moscow  about  the  middle  of 


IN   RUSSIA.  277 

June.  Having  seen  the  wonders  of  that  ancient  cap 
ital  of  Russia,  he  went  by  railroad  direct  to  St.  Peters 
burg.  There  he  was  much  interested  in  the  massive 
structures  of  granite  and  marble  which  stand  over  the 
land  which  was  once  an  impassable  marsh,  and  pon 
dered,  with  feelings  of  great  wonder,  upon  the  control 
which  man  exercises  over  nature.  The  grand  squares, 
the  wide  Boulevards,  the  ponderous  bridges,  the  ex 
tensive  palaces,  the  solid  cathedral,  and  the  broad 
quays  and  docks,  give  an  impression  of  grandeur  in 
simplicity,  which  no  other  city  possesses.  The  great 
capital  has  none  of  that  air  of  gayety  and  ostentation 
which  one  notices  in  Paris  and  London  ;  but  is  stately, 
dignified,  grand.  Everything  is  done  on  a  large  scale, 
and  the  buildings,  halls,  streets,  and  parades,  are  alike 
suggestive  of  might,  and  a  strong  will.  The  city  is 
Peter  the  Great  in  stone.  It  conveys  the  impression 
to  the  traveller,  of  strength  without  coarseness,  and  of 
beauty  without  display. 

Little  did  Mr.  Taylor  expect,  when  he  bade  those 
extensive,  massive  palaces  adieu,  that  he  should  return 
to  that  city,  in  a  few  years,  as  the  official  representa 
tive  of  a  powerful  nation.  Probably  the  idea  of  being 
again  in  those  galleries -of  art,  was  as  remote  from  his 
calculations  as  was  the  idea  of  being  minister  of  the 
United  States  at  the  court  of  the  German  Empire, 
when  he  walked  reverently  along  the  Unter-den-Lin- 
den  at  Berlin  for  the  first  time,  trying  to  get  a  peep  at 
the  distant  carriage  of  the  king. 


278  LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

From  St.  Petersburg,  he  took  the  inland  route  for 
Prussia,  passing  through  the  Baltic  provinces,  and 
studying  the  habits  and  appearance  of  the  people. 
His  return  to  Gotha,  from  Russia,  was  regarded  by 
himself,  and  by  his  friends,  as  the  close  of  his  wander 
ings,  and,  with  a  sigh  of  relief,  he  laid  down  his  pen, 
and  declared  that  he  wished  for  nothing  more  than  to 
"  settle  down  in  a  home  of  his  own  near  the  old  farm 
in  the  States."  A  few  weeks  later,  and  he  was  receiv 
ing  the  congratulations  of  his  friends  in  New  York, 
and  had  taken  his  place  at  the  familiar  desk  in  the 
office  of  the  New  York  "Tribune." 

Then  began  another  season  of  closest  and  severest 
mental  labor.  Rest,  during  his  waking  hours,  seemed 
impossible,  and  even  the  hours  which  he  spent  at  the 
Literary  Club  and  at  his  rooms,  were  more  or  less  con 
nected  with  his  work.  Literature  was  his  work,  and 
literature  was  his  play.  He  had  become  enamored  of 
Goethe  and  Schiller,  and  already  conceived  the  idea  of 
giving  to  the  world  a  translation  of  their  best  works. 
He  had  the  "Argument"  of  the  "Poet's  Journal"  in 
his  mind,  and  every  visit  to  the  scenes  of  his  first  love, 
in  the  companionship  of  the  second,  served  to  urge 
him  to  complete  and  publish  it. 

He  had  become  one  of  the  noted  men  of  America, 
and  the  calls  to  lecture,  to  write,  to  visit,  to  attend 
dinners,  and  write  editorials,  were  incessant  and  per 
sistent. 

The   const  motion  of  his   house  took  much   of  his 


BUILDING   A   HOUSE.  279 

attention,  and  he  ransacked  his  collections  of  sketches, 
and  photographs  of  villas,  palaces,  and  cottages  in  the 
Old  World,  to  find  such  a  plan  as  he  could  be  satisfied 
to  adopt.  It  was  no  child's  play  with  him  to  construct 
the  building  wherein  to  make  his  home.  He  had 
thought  of  the  matter  from  boyhood,  and  that  clump 
of  oaks  on  the  highland,  about  a  mile  to  the  westward 
of  Kennett  Square,  and  within  a  short  distance  of  the 
old  homsetead,  had  ever  been  his  choice.  His  years 
of  wanderings  had  sharpened  his  desire  for  a  perma 
nent  home,  and,  with  characteristic  care  and  thorough 
ness,  he  investigated  his  plans  and  means.  Ho  had 
owned  the  land  for  five  years,  and  had  gloried  in  being 
the  owner  of  American  soil,  without  which  one  can 
hardly  claim  to  be  an  American'.  He  attended  to  all 
the  details  of  rooms,  closets,  stairways,  windows,  brick, 
stone,  cornices,  roof,  tower,  with  caution  and  delibera 
tion  ;  and  when  he  contracted  with  the  masons,  carpen 
ters,  and  gardeners,  he  knew  just  what  was  needed,  and 
told  to  each  what  was  expected  of  them.  There  was 
a  ceremony  attendant  on  breaking  the  ground,  a  pro 
cession,  and  a  box  of  records  deposited  in  the  founda 
tion,  when  the  corner-stone  was  laid,  and  such  a  house- 
warming  when  it  was  dedicated  October  18  and  19, 
1860,  as  Americans  seldom  enjoy.  There  was  feast 
ing,  singing,  original  poetry,  original  plays,  and  one 
of  the  happiest,  merriest  companies  ever  gathered 
under  a  hospitable  roof.  " 

But  while  the  bjjiy4mg--^s  being  slowly  and  care- 


280  LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

fully  constructed,  with  its  thick  walls  of  stone  and 
brick,  Mr  Taylor,  was  engaged  no  less  in  his  editorial 
tasks.  The  summer  after  his  return  from  Europe,  he 
made  several  excursions  in  an  editorial  capacity,  one 
of  which  took  him  again  to  California.  The  great 
changes  in  the  city  of  San  Francisco,  and  in  the 
appearance  of  the  entire  State,  so  far  as  he  visited  it, 
were  marvellous,  and  were  as  marvellously  pictured  to 
the  minds  of  his  readers.  His  time  was  much  occupied 
in  delivering  lectures  in  the  various  cities  of  the  State  ; 
but  he  used  his  disciplined  eyes  and  ears  to  such  advan 
tage  that  he  gave  in  his  book  the  most  full  and  accurate 
account  of  California, — its  agriculture,  its  institu 
tions,  its  lakes,  its  mountains,  its  great  trees,  its  mines, 
its  enterprises,  and  its  people,  —  to  be  found  in  any 
work  of  the  kind  now  in  print.  It  is  astonishing  how 
much  he  could  put  into  a  paragraph,  without  giving 
it  a  crowded  appearance  I 

His  time,  from  the  day  he  returned  from  California, 
was  mostly  engaged  in  delivering  lectures  and  writing 
letters.  He  was  not  rich,  and  he  was  generous.  He 
had  a  house  to  build,  and  to  pay  for.  Furniture  must 
be  had,  and  his  accumulated  fortune  was  not  large 
enough  for  all.  Hence  he  travelled,  and  he  delivered 
lectures,  notwithstanding  the  disagreeable  experiences 
which  he  was  compelled  to  endure.  He  yearned  to  be 
at  the  translation  of  "Faust";  but  necessity  drove 
him  to  talk  of  travel  and  '  biography.  He  had  a 
home,  for  "it  is  home  where  the  heart  is,"  and  be 


GETTING   A   HOME.  281 

longed  to  be  in  it.  But  necessity  sent  him  forth  with 
a  rude  hand,  and  held  him  aloof  from  his  own.  Oh  ! 
that  is  the  saddest  experience  in  human  life  !  To  feel 
called  to  a  certain  work ;  to  know  that  there  is  one 
task  for  which  one  is  peculiarly  fitted  by  nature  and 
by  discipline  ;  to  see  before  him  still  the  beckoning 
forms  which  have  hovered  in  the  glory  of  every  set 
ting  sun,  since  earliest  childhood  ;  to  feel  that  one's 
productions,  which  might  be  valuable,  arc  unfinished, 
and  hardly  shaped,  before  they  are  forced  into  the  hands 
of  conscienceless  critics,  is  one  of  the  most  miserable 
conditions  in  life.  This  condition,  which  has  worn 
out  so  many  men  of  genius,  and  which  has,  with 
tyrannical  coldness,  compelled  authors  to  fence  up  their 
own  literary  highway,  or  die,  was  not  felt  by  Mr. 
Taylor  in  that  degree  that  it  was  by  some  of  his  co- 
temporaries,  and  by  many  since  his  time.  But  he  felt  it 
often  enough  and  keenly  enough  to  sympathize  with 
others,  and  most  forcibly  expressed  their  feelings 
in  his  "Picture  of  Saint  John." 

"  But  soon  assailed  my  home  the  need  of  gold, 
The  miserable  wants  that  plague  and  fret, 

Repeated  ever,  battling  with  our  hold 

Ou  all  immortal  aims,  lest,  overbold 
In  arrogance  of  gift,  we  dare  forget 

The  balanced  curse  ;  ah,  me !  that  finest  powers, 
Must  stoop  to  menial  services,  and  set 

Their  growth  below  the  unlaborious  flowers." 

Yet  manfully  did  he  toil,  neglecting  sleep  and  food, 
eager  to  teach,  determined  to  earn  honestly  the  money 


282  LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

which  he  was  to  receive.  He  desired  to  have  a  home 
free  from  debt,  to  which  he  could  invite  his  friends, 
and  feel  that  his  hospitality  could  be  safely  and  hon 
estly  extended  to  all  those  whom  he  loved  and  honored. 
So  he  toiled,  as  men  seldom  toil,  using  every  moment  on 
railway  and  steamboat,  to  write  out  those  pages  which 
his  engagements  prevented  him  from  doing  at  home. 
As  a  consequence,  his  health  began  to  decline,  and  oft- 
repeated  warnings  of  friends  and  of  physicians,  which 
he  tried  to  keep  from  the  knowledge  of  his  relatives, 
drove  him  from  the  lucrative  field  of  lecturing. 

With  his  face  set,  steadfastly  set,  toward  the  tombs  of 
Goethe  and  of  Schiller,  seeing  the  great  obligation  he 
was  under,  to  a  Providence  which  had  so  richly  en 
dowed  him,  to  give  to  man  some  masterpiece,  he  turned 
at  once  toward  his  loved  Germany,  when  he  felt  the 
necessity  of  a  change  of  home,  and  a  change  of  work. 

But  the  exciting  events  immediately  preceding  the 
War  of  the  Great  Rebellion,  so  stirred  his  patriotic 
soul,  that  he  turned  his  thought  and  work  into  patriotic 
channels,  and  worked  on  until  late  in  the  spring  of 
1861.  His  words  in  the  newspapers,  in  the  maga 
zines,  and  on  the  rostrum,  were  ringing  trumpet-calls 
to  the  defence  of  the  Republic.  The  Chinese  say  that 
"there  are  words  which  are  deeds."  That  could  be 
said  of  those  Mr.  Taylor  uttered.  His  public  ad 
dresses  were  enthusiastic  appeals  for  the  salvation  of 
the  nation,  and  his  poems  had  in  them  the  boldest 
spirit  of  patriotism. 


HIS    PATRIOTISM.  283 

In  his  poem,  "Through  Baltimore,"  written  in  April, 
1861,  he  described  the  approach  of  the  Union  soldiers 
to  Baltimore,  the  onset  of  the  mob,  and  closed  the 
story  with  these  words  :  — 

"  No,  never  !    By  that  outrage  black, 

A  solemn  oath  we  swore, 
To  bring  the  Keystone's  thousands  back, 
Strike  down  the  dastards  who  attack, 
And  leave  a  red  and  fiery  track 
Through  Baltimore  ! 

Bow  down,  in  haste,  thy  guilty  head  I 
God's  wrath  is  swift  and  sore  : 

The  sky  with  gathering  bolts  is  red,  — 

Cleanse  from  thy  skirts  the  slaughter  shed, 

Or  make  thyself  an  ashen  bed, 
O  Baltimore ! 

On  the  30th  of  April,  1861,  he  wrote  an  address  to  the 
American  people,  the  last  verse  of  which  expressed  the 
sentiment  of  the  whole  poem  and  we  insert  it  here  :  — 

"  Slow  to  resolve,  be  swift  to  do ! 
Teach  ye  the  False  how  fight  the  True ! 
How  bucklered  Perfidy  shall  feel 
In  her  black  heart  the  Patriot's  steel ; 
I  low  sure  the  bolt  that  Justice  wings  ; 
How  weak  the  arm  a  traitor  brings ; 
How  mighty  they,  who  steadfast  stand 
For  Freedom's  Flag  and  Freedom's  Land !  " 

But  the  poem  which  created  the  greatest  enthusiasm 
at  the  time  of  its  publication,  and  which  is  still  a  most 


284          LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

touch! ngly  inspiring  selection,  was  written  at  about 
the  same  time  as  (he  "Address  to  the  American  Peo 
ple,"  possibly  ten  days  later,  and  it  was  given  the  title 
of  "Scott  and  the  Veteran."  To  fully  appreciate  the 
power  of  those  verses,  one  needs  to  recall  the  hesita 
tion,  and  the  excitement,  and  the  uncertainty  which  the 
nation  felt  in  that  dark  hour.  In  a  time  like  that,  a 
few  clear,  unmistakable  words  work  wonders  with  a 
people.  Well  does  the  writer  recall  the  electrical  effect 
of  that  poem  in  1861,  when  read  at  a  patriotic  gather 
ing  of  the  yeomen,  in  a  valley  of  the  Berkshire 
Hills,  in  Western  Massachusetts.  The  lines  were  not 
so  polished,  nor  the  words  so  choice  as  many  other 
verses  which  Mr.  Taylor  had  written  ;  but  they  seem 
to  come  again  as  they  were  then  recited,  and  awaken 
memories  of  mountain  glens,  and  "mountain  boys"; 
of  camps  and  battles,  of  fields  of  cotton  made  fields 
of  carnage;  of  loved  faces  looking  skyward,  cold  and 
still;  of  a  nation  saved,  redeemed,  renewed.  The 
three  closing  verses  we  have  never  forgotten. 


"  If  they  should  fire  on  Pickens,  let  the  Colonel  in  command 
Put  me  upon  the  rampart,  with  the  flagstaff  in  my  hand  : 
No  odds  how  hot  the  cannon-smoke,  or  how  the  shells  may  fly ; 
I  '11  hold  the  Stars  and  Stripes  aloft,  and  hold  them  till  I  die  I 

I'm  ready,  General,  so  you  let  a  post  to  me  be  given, 

Where  Washington  can  see  me,  as  he  looks  from  highest  heaven, 

And  say  to  Putnam  at  his  side,  or,  may  be,  General  Wayne  ; 

'  There  stands  old  Billy  Johnson,  that  fought  at  Lundy's  Lane ! ' 


VISIT   TO    GERMANY.  285 

And  when  the  fight  is  hottest,  before  the  traitors  fly, 

When  shell  and  ball  are  screeching  and  bursting  in  the  sky, 

If  any  shot  should  hit  me,  and  lay  me  on  my  face, 

My  soul  would  go  to  Washington's,  and  not  to  Arnold's  place ! " 

In  June,  the  necessity  of  rest,  and  the  desire  to 
obtain  it  in  such  a  way  as  to  get  pleasure  and  advan- 
tnge  from  his  release,  influenced  him  to  take  a  trip  to 
his  wife's  old  home,  and  to  spend  a  month  at  the  country 
residence  of  a  friend  which  was  situated  on  slopes  of 
the  Thuringian  Forest,  not  far  from  Weimar  and  Gotha. 
It  was  a  lovely  spot,  and  a  pretty  cottage,  and  about 
him  were  numberless  reminders  of  Schiller  and  Goethe, 
with  whose  names  he  was  so  creditably  to  connect  his 
own.  Whether  he  gained  the  rest  he  needed  or  not, 
is  a  question  still  undecided.  Certainly  he  did  not 
gain  as  much  as  he  would,  had  he  left  Goethe's 
"Faust,"  and  his  own  new  volume  of  poems  behind 
him,  and  chafed  much  less  under  his  great  suspense 
concerning  the  results  of  the  American  War.  He 
ran  up  the  American  flag  to  the  ridge-pole  of  his  cot 
tage,  and  walked  about  uneasily,  awaiting  news  from 
home.  He  talked  of  the  war  with  his  neighbors  and 
visitors,  wrote  about  it  to  whomsoever  of  his  friends 
he  thought  nr.ght  not  understand  the  merits  of  the 
contest,  and,  at  last,  about  trio  1st  of  August,  hastily 
broke  up  his  cosy  housekeeping,  and  returned  to 
America. 

When  he  again  opened  the  doors  of  his  dwelling  sit 
lienuett,  which  he  had  given  the  poetical  nanio  of 


286  LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

"  Cedarcroft,"  it  was  to  welcome  to  his  fireside  all  who 
loved  their  country.  But,  as  he  afterwards  proudly 
declared,  no  traitor  ever  crossed  its  threshold.  Many 
distinguished  men  visited  him,  including  members  of 
Congress,  and  of  the  President's  Cabinet, 


SECRETARY    OF    LEGATION.  287 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

Appointed  as  Secretary  of  Legation.  —  Life  m  St.  Petersburg.  — 
Literary  Labors.  —  His  Home  at  Kennett.  —  Publication  of  his 
Poems.  —  Visits  Iceland.  —  His  Poem  at  the  Millennial  Celebra 
tion. —  Appointment  as  Minister  to  Berlin.  —  His  Congratula 
tions. —  Reception  at  Berlin.  —  His  Death. 

IN  the  summer  of  1862,  Mr.  Taylor  accepted  the 
appointment  as  Secretary  of  Legation  at  St.  Peters 
burg,  Russia,  for  which  he  was  indebted  to  his  life-long 
friend,  the  Hon.  George  H.  Boker,  of  Philadelphia, 
whose  services  to  the  nation  as  Minister  Plenipoten 
tiary,  as  well  as  his  gifts  as  an  author,  have  made  his 
name  familiar  to  the  reading  public  of  America. 

It  does  not  appear  that  the  official  duties  connected 
with  his  office  especially  pleased  Mr.  Taylor,  and  it  is 
believed  by  his  friends  that  he  regarded  them  in  about 
the  same  light  that  Hawthorne  looked  upon  his  office. 
It  was  an  honorable  and  responsible  position,  espe 
cially  so  during  1862  and  1863,  when  the  United  States 
was  laboring  so  earnestly,  and  finally  so  successfully, 
to  gain  the  friendship  of  Russia,  and  Mr.  Taylor  ap 
preciated  it.  Certainly  the  American  Legation  at  St. 
Petersburg  was  never  more  popular  at  the  Court  of  the 
Emperor  than  during  the  terra  of  Mr.  Taylor's  sojourn. 


288  LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

Whatever  the  credit  which  is  due  to  the  Minister  dur 
ing  his  stay,  it  is  no  disparagement  to  say  that  Mr. 
Taylor  made  many  warm  friends  in  St.  Petersburg, 
who  remember  him,  and  weep  for  his  untimely  death. 
When  the  duties  of  the  Legation  devolved  entirely  upon 
him,  as  charge  d*  affairs  >  he  was  treated  with  the  great 
est  consideration,  and  for  a  time  the  court  circles 
believed  that  the  President  of  the  United  States  would 
promote  him  to  the  office  of  Ambassador,  as  appeared 
to  them  to  be  his  due. 

But  Mr.  Taylor  was  in  no  wise  an  office-seeker,  and 
cared  more  for  the  honor  of  writing  a  good  book  than 
for  any  office  in  the  gift  of  the  President.  So  the 
autumn,  winter,  and  spring  which  Mr.  Taylor  spent  in 
St.  Petersburg  were  devoted  to  his  studies  of  litera 
ture,  so  far  as  he  could  do  so  without  neglecting  his 
duties.  He  made  several  excursions  into  the  interior 
of  Russia,  and  made  himself  acquainted  with  the 
language  and  writings  of  Russian  authors.  Work ! 
work !  work  I  Incessantly  writing,  reading,  or  ob 
serving  I  Such  was  his  life  in  St.  Petersburg.  His 
envious  critics  have  said  that  his  genius  all  lay  in  the 
ability  to  do  hard  work.  But  does  not  successful  hard 
work  exhibit  genius  in  its  greatest  strength?  Some 
may,  in  one  dash,  make  themselves  famous.  Authors 
may  concentrate  all  their  power  in  a  single  leap,  and 
reach  the  heights  of  fame  at  one  bound.  But  of  such 


LITERARY    WORK.  289 

men  you  seldom  hear  a  second  success.  Their  single 
work  is  all  that  they  do  well.  Not  so  with  Mr.  Tay 
lor.  The  publication  of  one  book  only  left  the  way 
clear  for  a  better  successor.  His  Muse  was  not  uncer 
tain,  his  genius  was  not  spasmodic.  Two  of  his 
poems,  written  in  Russia,  namely,  "The  Neva,"  and 
"A  Thousand  Years,"  were  afterwards  translated  into 
Russian,  and  received  the  hearty  encomiums  of  the 
cultured  nobility.  His  story  of  "Beauty  and  the 
Beast,"  located  at  Novgorod,  to  which  place  Mr.  Tay 
lor  made  an  excursion  while  connected  with  the  Ameri 
can  Legation  at  St.  Petersburg,  has  also  been  trans 
lated  into  the  Russian  language,  together  with  other 
selections  from  his  writings,  showing  that  his  literary 
renown  did  not  suffer  by  his  residence  in  Russia. 

But  his  highest  ambition  in  life  was  to  publish  a 
worthy  translation  of  Goethe  and  Schiller,  together  with 
a  biography  of  both.  This  had  been  his  purpose  from 
the  time  he  first  visited  Weimar  and  Gotha.  To  this 
his  other  labors  became  gradually  subordinated. 

How  he  came  to  turn  his  attention  to  prose  fiction 
can  be  accounted  for  on  the  supposition  that  he  adopted 
that  character  for  the  purpose  of  testing  his  own 
powers,  and  securing  an  income  which  would  enable 
him  to  prosecute  his  studies  and  investigations  relating 
to  Goethe  and  Schiller.  He  did  not  hope  to  be  a  lead 
ing  novelist,  and  the  public  placed  a  much  higher  esti- 


290          LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

mate  on  his  novels  than  he  did.  The  desire  he  had  to 
immortalize  his  old  home,  the  urgent  appeals  of  friends, 
and  the  advice  of  acquaintances,  pressed  him  into  a 
field  which  he  confessed  in  his  lectures  was  uncon 
genial.  Yet  he  had  no  more  reason  to  be  ashamed  oi 
"Hannah  Thurston,"  "John  Godfrey's  Fortunes,"  and 
the  "Story  of  Kennett,"  brought  out  soon  after  his 
return  from  Russia,  than  he  had  thirteen  or  fourteen 
years  before  to  be  ashamed  of  the  Jenny  Lind  prize- 
song,  or  the  poem  delivered  before  the  Phi  Beta  Kappa 
Society  of  Harvard  College. 

After  leaving  Russia,  he  soon  returned  to  the  United 
States,  and,  with  lecturing  and  writing,  occupied  the 
time  until  again  called  abroad  by  a  desire  to  see  some 
localities  visited  by  Goethe,  and  describe  the  great 
Paris  Exhibition  of  1867.  Then  followed  those  years 
of  work  at  home,  and  travel  abroad  and  at  home,  as 
his  duties  as  author,  editor,  and  correspondent  de 
manded.  In  1866  appeared  his  poem,  "Picture  of 
St.  John,"  which  was  immediately  translated  into 
Italian  by  an  admirer  in  Florence.  His  poem,  "The 
Ballad  of  Abraham  Lincoln,"  appeared  in  1869, 
"Goethe's  Faust,"  in  1871,  "The  Masque  of  the 
Gods,"  in  1872,  "Lars,  a  Pastoral  of  Norway,"  in 
1873,  "The  Prophet,  a  Tragedy,"  in  1874,  and  "Home 
Pastorals,  Ballads,  and  Lyrics,"  in  1875. 

In  the  spring  of  1874,  Mr.  Taylor  visited  Iceland  as 


IN   ICELAND.  291 

the  correspondent  of  the  New  York  "Tribune."  He 
had  visited  Egypt,  and  was  to  return  to  America 
after  a  short  stay  in  Europe,  but  the  news  of  the 
Millennial  Celebration,  which  was  to  take  place  on  the 
island  August  2d  and  3d,  called  a  large  number  ot 
people  to  the  festivities,  and  it  was  fitting  that  a  great 
American  newspaper  should  be  represented.  But 
neither  the  people  of  Iceland,  nor  the  editors  of  the 
"Tribune,"  nor  Mr.  Taylor,  had  any  idea,  when  he 
set  out,  that  his  visit  would  be  magnified  into  a  rec 
ognition  of  the  event  by  the  people  of  the  United 
States.  His  knowledge  of  the  Danish  language,  and 
his  study  of  the  Icelandic  tongue,  according  to  his 
plan  laid  in  Copenhagen  eighteen  years  before,  when 
on  his  way  to  the  Northern  Ocean,  made  him  peculiarly 
fitted  for  the  position  in  which  he  was,  by  a  conjunc 
tion  of  unforeseen  circumstances,  unexpectedly  thrown. 
But  his  genius  was  as  spontaneous  as  it  was  persever 
ing;  for  in  a  few  moments  of  time,  amid  confusion, 
and  conversation  in  which  he  took  part,  he  wrote  the 
poem,  "America  to  Iceland,"  which,  when  read  to  the 
Icelanders  in  their  own  language,  on  the  occasion  of 
their  largest  gathering,  created  the  greatest  enthusi 
asm.  One  verse  ran  thus,  — 

"  Hail,  mother-land  of  Skalds  and  heroes, 

By  love  of  freedom  hither  hurled ; 
Fire  in  their  hearts  as  in  their  mountains, 
And  strength  like  thine  to  shake  the  world !  * 


292  LIFE   OF   BAYARD    TAYLOR 

Mr.  Taylor's  printed  description  of  the  scenery, 
people,  government,  and  geysers  of  Iceland,  is  a  stand 
ard  work  on  that  almost  unknown  island,  and  is  writ 
ten  in  a  vein  readable  and  refined.  As  it  shows  rather 
the  fruit  of  a  cultured  life  than  the  processes  of  culture, 
its  contents  require  no  extended  notice  in  a  work  like 
this. 

In  the  winter  (February)  of  1878,  President  Hayes 
offered  Mr.  Taylor  the  vacant  mission  at  Berlin,  ex 
pressing,  at  the  same  time,  his  conviction  that  there 
was  no  other  American  living  who  could  so  nobly  and 
creditably  fill  the  position  of  Minister  of  the  United 
States  to  the  German  Empire.  Mr.  Taylor's  fame 
as  a  German  scholar ;  his  relation,  by  marriage,  to  the 
German  people ;  his  popularity  at  home  and  in  Ger 
many  ;  and  his  creditable  performance  of  his  duties  in 
a  like  position  at  St.  Petersburg,  made  it  peculiarly 
fitting  that  ho  should  represent  the  American  people  in 
that  official  capacity. 

It  was  an  office  unsought  by  Mr.  Taylor,  but,  never 
theless,  it  was  most  cheerfully  accepted,  as  it  would 
give  him  an  opportunity  to  prosecute  his  studies  of  the 
life  of  Goethe  and  the  life  of  Schiller,  which  could  not 
be  so  well  secured  in  any  other  way. 

The  announcement  of  the  appointment  was  hailed  by 
the  people  of  the  United  States  with  the  liveliest 
demonstrations  of  approval.  Neither  the  appointment 


MINISTER  AT   BERLIN.  293 

of  Mr.  Bancroft  or  Mr.  Motley  received  such  universal 
approbation.  All  the  newspapers,  with  no  known  ex 
ception,  declared  it  to  be  one  of  the  wisest  appoint 
ments  made  by  the  administration.  All  parties  ap 
plauded  at  home,  and  the  leading  journals  of  Europe 
mentioned  it  with  words  of  praise. 

Mr.  Taylor  was  overwhelmed  with  congratulations, 
and  President  Hayes  received  letters  from  almost  every 
State  and  city  in  the  Republic,  thanking  him  for  mak 
ing  such  a  creditable  selection,  and  commending  his 
wisdom.  Mr.  Taylor  was  feasted,  and  "toasted"  by 
his  commercial  and  literary  friends  with  an  enthusiasm 
and  liberality  never  known  before  on  such  an  occasion. 
Ovation  after  ovation  was  given,  and  his  departure 
in  April  from  New  York  was  witnessed  by  hosts  of 
his  friends. 

His  welcome  at  Berlin  was  scarcely  less  hearty. 
Authors  and  editors  received  him  with  earnest  expres 
sions  of  satisfaction.  The  Crown  Prince,  Prince  Bis 
marck,  and  even  the  Emperor  and  Empress  greeted 
him  with  most  unusual  marks  of  respect.  With  a 
world  looking  to  him  for  yet  greater  things,  but 
thankful  for  the  noble  deeds  of  the  past,  Mr.  Taylor 
set  up  a  home  at  Berlin  in  which  he  hoped  to  finish 
those  books  on  Goethe  and  Schiller,  to  which  he  had 
already  given  some  of  the  best  years  of  his  life.  At 
last  there  was  rest.  Honored  by  his  nation,  holding 


294  LIFE   OF   BAYARD 


a  literary  position  above  the  darts  of  envy,  with  a 
gifted  wife  and  lovely  daughter,  he  entered  his  home 
in  Berlin,  saying,  "Here  I  can  work  in  peace.  Here 
we  shall  be  very  happy." 

Who  can  foretell  the  future  ;  or,  in  the  words  of 
Goethe's  "Mephistopheles,"  — 

"  Who  knows  how  yet  the  dice  may  fall  f  " 

That  drear  December,  of  which  he  had  written  so 
much,  and  which  ever  seemed  to  him  the  saddest  of  all 
the  year,  found  him  dangerously  ill  with  the  dropsy. 
He  tried  to  be  quiet,  as  the  physician  directed.  He 
tried  to  resume  the  old  Arabic  resignation  which  had 
so  often  served  him  in  the  place  of  substantial  accom 
plishment.  But  the  habit  of  years,  the  overmastering 
desire  to  labor,  the  "  passion  for  work  "  which  made 
his  life  successful,  held  sway  over  him  still. 

His  nation  had  commissioned  him  to  serve  at  the 
Court  of  Berlin.  There  was  a  call  for  him  at  the  Le 
gation.  He  could  not  refuse  to  go,  if  he  had  the 
strength  to  move.  So  he  rises  from  his  bed,  and  goes 
forth  to  fulfil  the  desires  of  his  people.  It  is  his  last 
work.  His  beloved  America  receives  his  dying  atten 
tion  !  The  next  day  (Dec.  19,  1878),  just  after  the 
messenger  had  left  at  his  door  the  first  printed  copy 
of  his  new  work,  "Deukalion,"  the  poet,  traveller, 
scholar,  patriot,  brother,  husband,  and  father,  loft 
his  work  unfinished  to  enter  upon  the  Eternal  Rest. 

He  had  long  suffered  from  a  mild  form  of  a  kidney 


HIS    DEATH.  295 

disease,  but  neither  he  nor  his  physicians  attached  any 
importance  to  that  complaint.  On  the  day  that  he 
died,  he  arose  from  his  bed,  dressed,  and  received 
visitors.  Feeling  tired,  at  noon,  he  concluded  to  lie 
down  and  rest.  He  slept  for  a  short  time,  quietly,  but 
on  awakening,  his  mind  wandered,  and  his  symptons 
became  at  once  alarming.  Dr.  Lowe  Kalbe,  who  was 
Mr.  Taylor's  physician,  and  an  old  friend,  was  with 
him,  together  with  Mrs.  Taylor  and  their  daugh 
ter  Lillian.  But  he  sank  rapidly,  and  at  four  o'clock 
in  the  afternoon,  peacefully  passed  away. 

How 'like  a  voice  from  a  living  Past  came  to  us  his 
own  sad  lines,  when  they  said  to  us  in  sadness,  — 
"Bayard  Taylor  is  dead  ! " 

"  I  never  knew  the  autumnal  eves  could  wear, 

With  all  their  pomp,  so  drear  a  hue  of  Death  ; 
I  never  knew  their  still  and  solemn  breath 
Could  rob  the  breaking  heart  of  strength  to  bear, 
Feeding  the  blank  submission  of  despair. 

Yet,  peace,  sad  soul !    Reproach  and  pity  shine, 
Suffused  through  starry  tears  :  bend  thou  in  prayer, 
Rebuked  by  Love  divine." 

l(  Why  art  thou  dead  T    Upon  the  hills  once  more 

The  golden  mist  of  waning  Autumn  lies  ; 
The  slow-pulsed  billows  wash  along  the  shore, 

And  phantom  isles  are  floating  in  the  skies. 
They  wait  for  thee :  a  spirit  in  the  sand 

Hushes,  expectant  for  thy  coming  tread ; 
The  light  wind  pants  to  lift  thy  trembling  hair ; 

Inward,  the  silent  land 

Lies  with  its  mournful  woods ; — why  art  thou  dead, 
When  Earth  demands  that  thou  shalt  call  her  fair  ?  " 


296  LIFE    OF   BAYARD   TAYLOE. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

His  Friends. —  The  Multitude  of  Mourners. —  His  London  Acquaint- 
ances.  —  Tennyson,  Corn  wall,  Browning,  Carlyle.  —  German 
Popularity.  —  Auerbach.  —  Humboldt.  —  French  Authors.  — 
Early  American  Friends. — Stoddard,  Willis,  Kane,  Bryant, 
Halleck,  Powers,  Greeley,  Mrs.  Kirkland,  Whittier,  Longfellow, 
Holmes,  Emerson,  Lowell,  Dana,  Alcott,  Aldrich,  Whipple, 
Curtis,  Fields,  Boker,  Chandler.  —  Relatives. 

SELDOM  has  the  death  of  a  single  individual  wounded 
the  hearts  of  so  many  personal  friends.  Men  have 
attained  to  greater  renown,  and  have  been,  perhaps, 
as  extensively  known  by  their  writings  and  their  fame  ; 
but  rare,  indeed,  can  be  found  in  history  the  name  of 
one  who  ha'd  so  many  intimate  companions.  The 
number  of  those  who  claimed  the  right  to  be  his  friends 
is  beyond  computation,  at  this  time, — within  a  few 
weeks  after  his  death,  —  but  it  includes  many  of  the 
most  noted  men  of  the  world. 

Alfred  Tennyson,  the  poet-laureate  of  England, 
was  an  acquaintance  and  correspondent  of  Mr.  Taylor's, 
their  first  meeting  being  at  Mr.  Tennyson's  house, 
Farringford,  on  the  Isle  of  Wight. 

William  Makepeace  Thackeray  was  one  of  Mr.  Tay 
lor's  warmest  literary  friends,  from  the  time  when  they 
met  at  a  dinner  of  the  Century  Club,  in  New  York,  in 


BAYARD  TAYLOR'S  FRIENDS.  297 

1856,  until  Mr.  Thackeray's  death,  in  1863.  The 
friendship  was  kept  alive  by  Mr.  Thackeray's  daugh 
ters,  who  first  met  Mr.  Taylor  in  London,  in  1858,  and 
who  at  that  time  most  hospitably  entertained  him, 
together  with  his  brother  and  sisters. 

o 

Robert  Browning  often  invited  Mr.  Taylor  to  join 
his  select  company  in  London,  their  acquaintance  having 
begun  in  1851 ;  and  Barry  Cornwall  (Bryan  Waller 
Procter),  treated  Mr.  Taylor  with  the  greatest  kind 
ness  and  hospitality,  writing  frequently,  until  he  died, 
in  1874,  to  inquire  after  Mr.  Taylor's  progress  in  the 
translation  of  "Faust." 

Thomas  Carlyle  and  John  Bright  were  numbered 
among  his  correspondents,  although  it  so  happened 
that  he  met  them  but  seldom. 

Among  the  leaders  of  English  literature  whose  friend 
ship  he  enjoyed,  there  is  a  very  large  circle  of  literary 
and  scientific  men  who  knew  Mr.  Taylor  through  their 
frequent  meetings  on  social  and  formal  occasions,  and 
who  were  well  acquainted  with  Mr.  Taylor's  books. 
From  many  of  these  there  came  the  expressions  of 
great  grief,  when  the  fact  of  Mr.  Taylor's  death  was 
announced  in  London. 

In  Germany  he  was  quite  as  well  known  as  their 
native  poets  of  his  time,  and  he  secured  the  respect 
and  love  of  nearly  every  distinguished  literary  man 
and  woman  in  that  Empire.  One  of  the  sweetest 
friendships  of  his  life  was  with  that  most  fascinating 
descriptive  writer,  Berthold  Auerbach,  whose  "Villa 


298  LIFE    OF   BAYARD 


on  the  Rhine  "  was  given  to  the  American  public  in 
1869,  by  Mr.  Taylor.  These  two  authors  were  like 
twin  brothers  in  their  authorship,  and  some  of  Auer- 
bach's  letters,  descriptive  of  European  scenes  and 
people,  could  be  inserted  in  Mr.  Taylor's  books,  ver 
batim,  and  the  interpolation  be  scarcely  detected. 
Their  regard  for  each  other  equalled  their  gifts,  and 
one  of  the  sincerest  mourners  at  the  funeral  of  Mr. 
Taylor,  was  that  gifted  scholar,  Berthold  Auerbach. 

Mr.  Taylor's  first  acquaintance  with  Alexander  von 
Humboldt,  was  in  1856,  when  Mr.  Taylor  called  upon 
the  great  naturalist  at  his  home  in  Berlin.  The  reading 
of  Humboldt's  works  had  been  of  great  benefit  to  Mr. 
Taylor,  as  a  correspondent,  and  he  so  informed  the 
Professor,  at  which  he  seemed  much  pleased.  Hum 
boldt  took  great  pains  to  secure  all  of  Mr.  Taylor's 
letters,  as  they  appeared  from  time  to  time  in  the 
"Tribune,"  and  most  warmly  praised  him  for  the  re 
markable  manner  in  which  he  pictured  the  scenes  he 
visited.  The  acquaintance  was  freqently  renewed,  and 
when  Humboldt  died,  in  1859,  Mr.  Taylor  is  said  to 
have  been  numbered  among  the  mourning  friends,  by 
those  in  charge  of  the  funeral,  although  he  was  in  the 
United  States  at  the  time.  For  years  the  public 
in  America  was  led  to  believe  that  Humboldt  ridiculed 
Mr.  Taylor's  writings,  although  what  could  have  been 
the  motive  of  the  one  who  originated  the  falsehood  it 
is  hard  to  conjecture. 

With  the  French  authors  he  did   not  have  a  very 


FRIENDSHIP   WITH   AUTHORS. 

extended  personal  acquaintance,  although  he  had  met 
many  of  them,  and  frequently  exchanged  books  with 
Victor  Hugo  and  Guillaume  Lejean. 

His  acquaintances  in  America  included  nearly  every 
living  author  of  his  generation,  and  he  numbered 
among  his  intimate  friends  the  most  gifted  men  in  the 
land.  Nearest  to  him,  perhaps,  stood  Richard  H.  Stod- 
dard,  of  New  York,  and  his  talented  wife,  Elizabeth 
Barstow  Stoddard.  Both  were  born  in  Massachusetts, 
and  have  frequently  spent  the  summer  months  at  Mrs. 
Stoddard's  old  home  in  Mattapoisett,  in  company  with 
Mr.  Taylor  and  his  family.  A  jolly  household  it  was, 
when  the  Taylors  and  the  Stoddards  united  their  fam 
ilies,  as  they  frequently  did,  in  the  city,  or  on  the  sea 
shore.  One  of  Mr.  Stoddard's  many  books,  viz.,  the 
Life  of  Humboldt,  contains  an  introduction  by  Mr. 
Taylor,  and  many  of  Mr.  Taylor's  poems  were  sub 
mitted  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Stoddard  for  their  criticism, 
before  he  published  them.  With  them,  and  with  Mr. 
George  Ripley,  he  appears  to  have  maintained  the  most 
confidential  relations  to  the  day  of  his  death. 

Many  of  his  early  friends  have  preceded  him  to  that 
"silent  shore,"  and  many  tears  did  he  shed  over  their 
graves.  Nathaniel  P.  Willis,  his  earliest  friend  in  the 
great  city,  who  encouraged  him  and  introduced  him 
into  a  literary  life,  died  at  his  home  of  "Idlewild,"  in 
1867.  Washington  Irving,  who  in  his  old  age  was 
earnest  enough  to  leave  his  home  at  "Sunnyside"  and 
go  to  New  York,  to  urge  Mr.  Taylor  to  persevere  iu 


300  LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

his  poetical  undertakings,  and  whose  advice  assisted 
Mr.  Taylor  so  much  in  his  various  trips  into  Spain, 
died  in  1873. 

Dr.  E.  K.  Kane,  who  aided  Mr.  Taylor  in  laying 
out  his  route  through  Norway,  and  whose  letters  of 
introduction  and  commendation  to  George  Peabody, 
the  great  banker,  and  to  other  influential  men  in  Eng 
land,  opened  the  way  for  Mr.  Taylor  into  the  best 
society  of  that  capital,  did  not  live  to  meet  Mr.  Taylor 
on  his  return  from  Norway,  as  had  been  arranged,  but 
died  alone,  at  Havana,  in  1857. 

William  Cullen  Bryant,  whose  master-pieces  were 
Mr.  Taylor's  study,  and  whose  personal  friendship  was 
so  much  valued,  that  Mr.  Taylor  visited  the  Berkshire 
Hills  of  Massachusetts,  wherein  the  "Thanatopsis" 
had  its  birth,  to  note  "if  the  scenes  would  have  the 
same  influence  on  a  stranger,  that  they  appeared  to 
have  had  on  a  native," —  he  whose  counsel  and  com 
panionship  had,  through  many  years,  been  counted 
amon<r  the  "richest  boons  of  life,"  died  a  few  months 

O 

before  Mr.  Taylor,  and  the  shadow  had  not  passed 
from  Mr.  Taylor's  brow,  and  his  poetical  tribute  to 
Bryant  was  hardly  in  print,  before  he  was  called  "  to 
join  the  caravan  that  moves  to  that  mysterious  realm." 

Fitz-Greene  Halleck,  who  used  to  caution  the  young 
poet,  and  who  took  pride  in  every  new  achievement  of 
the  traveller,  died  in  18(57. 

Horace  Greeley,  the  editor  of  the  Tribune,  whose 
friendship  was  of  the  most  steady  and  substantial  kind, 


MR.  GREELEY'S  FRIENDSHIP.  301 

and  for  whom  Mr.  Taylor  felt  the  respect  due  to  a 
parent,  expired  in  1872.  It  was  when  writing  of  Mr. 
Greeley's  death  that  Mr.  Taylor  gave  the  following 
sketch  of  their  friendship  : — 

"  My  own  intercourse  with  him,  though  often  interrupted 
by  absence  or  divergence  of  labor,  was  frank  at  the  start, 
and  grew  closer  and  more  precious  with  every  year.  In  all 
my  experience  of  men,  I  have  never  found  one  whose  primi 
tive  impulses  revealed  themselves  with  such  marvellous 
purity  and  sincerity.  His  nature  often  seemed  to  me  as 
crystal-clear  as  that  of  a  child.  In  my  younger  and  more 
sensitive  days,  he  often  gave  me  a  transient  wound;  but 
such  wounds  healed  without  a  scar,  and  I  always  found,  after 
ward,  that  they  came  from  the  lance  of  a  physician,  not  from 
the  knife  of  an  enemy. 

"  I  first  saw  Mr.  Greeley  in  June,  1844,  when  I  was  a  boy 
of  nineteen.  I  applied  to  him  for  an  engagement  to  write 
letters  to  the  c  Tribune '  from  Germany.  His  reply  was 
terse  enough.  '  No  descriptive  letters  ! '  he  said  ;  c  I  am 
sick  of  them.  When  you  have  been  there  long  enough  to 
know  something,  send  to  me,  and,  if  there  is  anything  in 
your  letters,  I  will  publish  them.'  I  waited  nearly  a  year, 
and  then  sent  seventeen  letters,  which  were  published. 
They  were  shallow  enough,  I  suspect ;  but  what  might  they 
not  have  been  without  his  warning? 

u  Toward  the  end  of  1847,  while  I  was  engaged  in  the 
unfortunate  enterprise  of  trying  to  establish  a  weekly  paper 
at  Phcenixville,  Penn.,  I  wrote  him  —  foreseeing  the  failure 
of  my  hopes  —  asking  his  assistance  in  procuring  literary 
work  in  New  York.  He  advised  me  (as  I  suspect  he  has 


302  LIFE    OF   BAYARD   TAYLOR. 

advised  thousands  of  young  men) ,  to  stay  in  the  country, 
But  I  had  stayed  in  the  country,  and  a  year  too  long ;  so 
another  month  found  me  in  New  York,  in  his  office,  with  my 
story  of  disappointment,  and  my  repeated  request  for  his 
favorable  influence.  4 1  think  you  are  mistaken,'  he  said  ; 
4  but  I  will  bear  you  in  mind,  if  I  hear  of  any  chance.' 

"  Six  weeks  afterward,  to  my  great  surprise  (for  I  sup 
posed  he  had  quite  forgotten  me) ,  he  sent  for  me  and  offered 
me  a  place  on  the  *  Tribune.'  I  worked  hard  and  inces 
santly  during  the  summer  of  1848,  hearing  never  a  word  of 
commendation  or  encouragement ;  but  one  day  in  October 
he  suddenly  came  to  my  desk,  laid  his  hand  on  my  shoulder, 
and  said,  '  You  have  been  faithful ;  but  now  you  need  rest. 
Take  a  week's  holiday,  and  go  into  New  England.'  I 
obeyed,  and  found,  on  my  return,  that  he  had  ordered  my 
salary  to  be  increased." 

Hiram  Powers,  the  American  sculptor,  who  so 
heartily  welcomed  the  young  pedestrian  to  Florence, 
Italy,  and  who  through  the  years  which  followed, 
showed  a  most  kindly  spirit,  making  Taylor  his  guest 
and  confidant,  passed  away  from  the  contemplation  of 
beautiful  earthly  forms  to  figures  angelic,  in  1873. 

Mrs.  Kirkland,  on  whose  magazine,  in  1848,  he 
began  to  regain  the  literary  prestige  which  the  failure 
of  the  "  Phcenixville  Pioneer  "  took  from  him,  and  who, 
with  Halleck,  so  kindly  opened  the  way  for  him  to 
teach  a  school  in  New  York,  to  repair  his  shattered 
fortunes,  was  gone,  together  with  a  large  number  of 
their  mutual  acquaintances  in  the  literary  circles  of 
New  York. 


LITERARY  FRIENDS.  303 

Although  the  ranks  were  so  sadly  depleted,  there 
are  still  living  a  most  brilliant  company  of  his  early 
literary  friends. 

John  G.  Whittier,  who  still  resides  in  Amesbury, 
his  patriotism  unabated,  his  Quaker  simplicity  un 
changed,  and  his  fame  as  a  poet  increasing,  as  civiliza 
tion  and  freedom  extend.  To  him  Mr.  Taylor  dedi 
cated  his  poem  of  "Lars,"  and  in  it  thus  mentioned 
his  first  meeting  with  Whittier : — 

"  Though  many  years  my  heart  goes  back, 
Through  checkered  years  of  loss  and  gain, 
To  the  fair  landmark  on  its  track, 
When  first,  upon  the  Merrimack, 
Upon  the  cottage  roof  I  heard  the  autumn  rain. 
A  hand  that  welcomed  and  that  cheered, 
To  one  unknown  didst  thou  extend ; 
Thou  gavost  hope  to  song  that  feared ; 
But  now  by  Time  and  Faith  endeared, 
I  claim  the  right  to  call  the  Poet,  Friend  !  " 

Thus  did  a  Quaker  write  of  a  Quaker  in  dedicating  a 
Quaker  poem. 

Henry  Wadsworth  Longfellow  lives  and  sings  as 
in  those  days  when  Taylor  read  the  story  of  "  Hyperion" 
and  the  poetry  of  "  Voices  of  the  Night,"  and  resolved 
to  visit  Boppart  and  to  be  a  poet.  Mr.  Longfellow 
had  a  name  to  be  envied  in  the  annals  of  literature, 
when  the  man  of  whom  we  write  was  a  rollicking, 
mischievious  boy.  Yet  Taylor  has  appeared  on  the 
stage  of  life,  has  enacted  a  very  important  part,  and 
is  gone.  His  friend  and  benefactor  remains,  loved 
and  honored  in  the  old  Washington  mansion  at 
Cambridge. 


304  LIFE   OF  BAYARD   TAYLOR. 

That  marvellously  versatile  and  skilful  man,  Dr 
Oliver  Wendell  Holmes,  though  born  long  before 
Taylor,  still  walks  the  halls  of  learning,  and,  while 
enjoying  the  deserved  rewards  of  "The  Autocrat  of 
the  Breakfast-Table,"  "Old  Ironsides,"  and  the  numer 
ous  other  publications  in  the  shape  of  essays,  poems, 
and  medical  text- books,  was  not  ashamed  to  be  called 
the  friend  of  Mr.  Taylor,  and  recalls  his  association 
with  him  in  the  most  affectionate  terms. 

Ralph  Waldo  Emerson,  the  poet  and  essayist,  who, 
like  Mr.  Holmes,  enjoys  a  world-wide  reputation  as  a 
man  of  letters  and  thoughts,  moves  among  men  as  of 
yore,  while  his  younger  acquaintance  has  passed  on 
before. 

James  Russell  Lowell,  upon  whose  brilliant  literary 
career  Mr.  Taylor  said  he  often  "gazed  with  bewilder 
ment,"  but  who  was  among  his  much-loved  literary 
friends,  adorns  the  court  of  Spain,  as  the  Minister  of 
the  United  States,  while  the  life  of  his  colleague  which 
began  much  later,  has  ceased  to  move  his  hands  to 
friendly  grasps,  and  his  lips  to  living  words. 

Richard  H.  Dana,  Sr.,  the  "eldest  poet,"  has  been 
dead  but  a  few  days.  Amos  Bronson  Alcott  retains 
his  home  in  Concord,  appearing  much  as  he  did  when 
George  Ripley,  Margaret  Fuller,  and  Theodore  Parker 
were  with  him  on  the  "Dial,"  which  the  Taylors  read 
in  Pennsylvania ;  but  he  who  came  to  their  homes  so 
short  a  time  ago,  will  cross  their  threshokb  no  more. 

Thomas  Bailey  Aldrich  remains,  and   writes  on   for 


LITERARY   FRIENDS.  305 

the  love  of  it,  while  his  friend  and  early  companion  in 
New  York,— -Taylor,  who  praised  his  "Babie  Bell "  and 
"Daisie's  Necklace,"  has  laid  down  his  pen  forever,  and 
will  sit  down  with  him  no  more  at  social  boards. 

George  William  Curtis,  who  was  born  the  year 
before  Mr.  Taylor,  and  whose  travels,  books,  and  cor 
respondence  for  the  New  York  "Tribune,"  gave  him 
such  a  similar  experience,  now  stands  at  the  front  in 
American  oratory,  and  looks  forward  to  wider  fields  of 
usefulness,  as  though  life  had  just  begun.  As  a  rep 
resentative  American  in  literature  and  in  political 
influence,  he  has  lost  in  Mr.  Taylor  an  earnest  and 
efficient  comrade. 

Edwin  P.  Whipple  still  lives  on  Beacon  Hill  in 
Boston,  and,  together  with  his  brilliant  wife,  recalls  the 
face  and  words  of  Taylor  with  the  affectionate  regard 
of  appreciative  minds  and  loving  hearts. 

James  T.  Fields,  of  Boston,  comes  and  goes,  an 
authority  on  literary  excellence,  and  an  attractive 
expounder  and  biographer,  while  the  boy  who  came  to 
him  long,  long  ago,  to  learn  if  Ticknor  &  Fields 
would  publish  a  little  poem,  has  grown  into  manhood, 
into  fame,  and  passed  on  to  the  Hereafter.  The  friend 
ship  of  many  years,  —  so  beautiful  a  sight  between 
publisher  and  poet,  —  which  the  pressure  and  un 
certainty  of  business  could  not  sever  or  decrease,  is 
broken,  ah  I  so  rudely,  by  the  hand  of  death. 

The  Hon.  George  H.  Boker,  of  Philadelphia,   still 
counts  his  useful  years ;  while  the  boy  whose  poems  he 
10 


306  LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

purchased,  and  whose  ambition  he  directed,  has  seen  a 
long  and  eventful  life,  using  but  a  part  of  the  time  in 
which  his  benefactor  has  lived.  Of  him  Mr.  Taylor 
wrote  in  1855  : — 

"You  were  the  mate  of  my  poetic  spring; 
To  you  its  buds,  of  little  worth,  concealed 
More  than  the  summer  years  have  siuce  revealed, 
Or  doubtful  autumn  from  the  stem  shall  fling. 
But  here  they  are,  the  buds,  the  blossoms  blown, 
Or  rich  or  scant  the  wreath  is  at  your  feet; 
And  though  it  were  the  freshest  ever  grown, 
To  you  its  incense  could  not  be  more  sweet, 
Since  with  it  goes  a  love  to  match  your  own, 
A  heart,  dear  friend,  that  never  falsely  beat." 

George  H.  Boker,  Jr.,  and  Mrs.  Taylor  are,  by  the 
terms  of  Mr.  Taylor's  will,  his  literary  executors. 

The  Hon.  J.  R.  Chandler  still  resides  in  the  same 
old  home  at  Philadelphia,  into  which  the  trembling 
youth  came  for  the  loan  of  fifty  dollars  with  which  tc 
see  Europe  on  foot.  After  a  long  and  honorable  life 
he  sees  no  act  more  creditable  than  the  simple-hearted 
generosity  which  he  displayed  toward  that  ambitious 
stripling. 

His  brother,  J.  Howard  Taylor,  M.D.,  and  his  cousin, 
Franklin  Taylor,  M.  D.,  are  both  at  their  official  posts 
of  honor  in  Philadelphia,  while  the  sisters  and  parents 
survive,  still  in  that  haze  of  doubt  which  precedes  the 
hard  realization  that  Bayard  is  dead. 

Mr.  Whitelaw  Reid  may  search  long  before  he  sup 
plies  to  the  "Tribune's"  readers  all  the  characteristics  of 


HIS    FRIENDS.  307 

Mr.  Taylor's  writings ;  the  literati  of  Philadelphia, 
New  York,  and  Boston,  will  long  wait  for  the  conge 
nial  companion  to  take  his  seat ;  and  the  thousands  of 
loving  hearts  in  all  the  civilized  countries  of  the  world 
and  in  many  uncivilized  lands,  will  not  cease  to  be 
sore,  until 

"The  stern  genius,  to  whoso  hollow  tramp 
Echo  the  startled  chambers  of  the  soul, 

Waves  his  inverted  torch  o'er  that  pale  camp, 
Where  the  archangel's  final  trumpets  roll" 


308  LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 


CHAPTER    XXXI. 

Translations  of  "  Faust."  — A  Life-work.  — Discouragements.  — The 
Scenes  in  "Faust."— The  Difficulties.— Magnitude  of  the  Work.— 
Perseverance. — The  Lives  of  Goethe  and  Schiller.  —  Years  in 
the  Work.  —The  Estimate  by  Scholars.  —  Dies  with  the  Work 
Unfinished 

"  Who  hath  not  won  a  name,  ana  SOCKS  not  noble  works, 

Belongs  but  to  the  elements." 

—  Faust. 

SOME  portions  of  Bayard  Taylor's  life  have  been 
but  lightly  touched  upon  in  the  previous  chapters, 
because  the  writer  felt  that  if  mentioned  in  their 
chronological  order,  he  would  be  compelled  to  repeat 
them  when  he  should  reach  this  chapter.  In  fact,  the 
history  of  Taylor's  translation  of  "  Faust,"  which  we 
propose  here  to  outline,  so  far  as  we  have  been  able  to 
learn  it,  necessarily  includes  the  whole  life  of  Mr. 
Taylor,  from  his  first  visit  to  Germany  to  the  day 
when  his  mortal  body  gave  way  under  its  accumulated 
load  of  work.  "Faust"  was  intimately  interwoven  with 
all  the  threads  of  his  life ;  and  whenever  Messrs. 
Houghton,  Osgood  &  Co.  publish  another  edition  of 
Taylor's  translation,  they  could  not  better  please  and 
instruct  the  public  than  by  prefacing  it  with  a  synopsis 
of  Mr.  Taylor's  life,  wherein  "Faust"  was  his  inspira 
tion  and  guide. 


GOETHE'S  FAUST.  309 

It  appears  that  when  he  began  the  study  of  the 
German  language  at  Heidelberg,  one  of  the  books  used 
by  him  contained  a  selection  from  the  First  Part  of 
Goethe's  "  Faust."  His  instructors  and  companions  there 
were  delighted  with  Goethe's  works,  and,  with  pride, 
mentioned  him  as  Germany's  greatest  man.  Meeting 
him,  as  it  did,  on  the  very  threshold  of  the  language, 
at  a  time  when  there  was  a  romance  about  the  country, 
and  a  fascination  in  the  language  which  only  youth 
ful  ambition  could  give,  he  was  ambitious  to  know 
more  about  the  master-mind,  and  sought  those  works 
which  contained  the  requisite  information. 

At  Frankfort,  he  found  the  works  of  Goethe  and 
Schiller,  and  was  fortunately  a  member  of  a  house 
hold  where  those  authors  were  admired  and  often 
quoted.  He  was  told,  as  he  afterwards  declared,  that 
if  he  knew  enough  of  German  to  read  Goethe  and 
Schiller,  it  was  all  that  he  would  need  to  know  of 
the  language.  How  much  that  remark  included  ho 
did  not  at  the  time  comprehend,  and  declared,  when 
his  translation  was  in  print,  that  he  did  not  feel  sure 
that  he  was  able  to  read  all  of  Goethe  as  Goethe 
intended  it  should  be  read,  and  that  there  were  very 
few  Germans  who  understood  the  wonderful  figures 
and  metaphors  found  in  Goethe's  "  Faust."  Being  of  an 
ambitious  temperament,  which  would  not  be  satisfied 
with  any  half-performed  task,  but  which,  neverthe 
less,  aimed  at  the  highest  achievements,  he  conceived 
the  idea,  as  early  as  1850,  of  translating  into  English 


310  LIFE   OF  BAYARD   TAYLOR. 

the  greatest  work  of  Goethe.  He  could  not  at  that 
time  comprehend  how  vast  an  undertaking  he  had 
assumed.  It  required  something  more  than  a  mere 
knowledge  of  words  to  be  able  to  translate  accurately 
and  fully ;  and  it  was  no  light  task  for  a  person  to 
master  the  common  meaning  of  all  the  words  and 
compounds  which  Goethe  so  recklessly  used. 

But  when  it  became  necessary  not  only  to  be  able  to 
give  the  meaning  of  each  word  by  substituting  in  its 
stead  one  of  another  language,  but  also  to  give  the 
sense  and  shades  of  meaning  which  the  words  in 
combination  convey  to  a  reader  of  the  original,  then 
the  task  became  formidable.  But  that  was  not  all. 
As  Goethe,  like  every  great  genius,  had  many  eccen 
tricities,  as  he  drew  many  of  his  illustrations  from 
events  in  his  own  experience  and  scenes  which  he  had 
visited,  it  was  necessary  to  a  full  understanding  of  the 
great  theme,  to  study  Goethe's  characteristics,  habits 
of  thought,  education,  and  experience. 

In  short,  if  one  were  to  translate  Goethe,  he  must  be 
like  Goethe  in  experience  and  mental  composition. 
He  must  know  what  Goethe  knew  ;  must  look  upon 
man  and  his  complicated  life  as  Goethe  looked  upon  it 
in  his  time  and  circumstances.  To  the  work  of  educa 
tion  and  self-discipline  Mr.  Taylor  applied  himself 
most  assiduously. 

Twice,  when  some  new  difficulty  presented  itself 
which  he  had  not  foreseen,  he  became  discouraged  and 
resolved  to  give  up  the  enterprise.  Once  was  whec 


GOETHE'S    FAUST.  311 

the  appearance  of  Rev.  Charles  T.  Brooks'  translation 
seemed  to  forestall  him  in  his  hope  for  a  profitable  sale 
of  the  book;  and  once  when  he  saw  with  unusual 
clearness  the  great  difficulty  of  obtaining  words  in  the 
English  language  which  should  not  only  express  the 
meaning,  but  do  so  in  acceptable  rhyme. 

But  those  discouraging  facts  were  soon  surmounted 
or  forgotten  in  the  great  passion  of  his  literary  life 
and  the  study  of  the  language,  manners,  and  beliefs 
of  the  German  people  was  not  abandoned. 

He  found  in  the  first  volume  many  references  to  the 
superstitions  of  the  German  people,  and  he  set  about 
learning  the  history  of  witches,  fairies,  sprites,  and 
the  Devil,  as  known  to  German  literature.  This,  in 
itself,  is  no  small  task.  He  then  encountered  what  he 
thought  was,  perhaps,  a  kind  of  burlesque  on  the 
government  and  its  laws,  and  to  feel  sure  that  it  was 
so  or  was  not  so,  he  studied  the  history  of  the  German 
principalities,  especially  of  Weimar,  where  Goethe 
resided. 

He  found  many  illustrations  from  the  landscapes 
of  Italy,  Switzerland,  Greece  and  Germany,  and  it 
became  necessary  not  only  to  visit  those  countries,  but 
to  look  upon  the  landscapes  mentioned  in  order  to  be 
sure  of  the  exact  meaning  of  the  words  of  description 
as  they  were  used  by  the  great  poet.  Hence,  in  Spain, 
France,  Italy,  Egypt,  Greece,  and  Germany,  he 
sought  the  places  mentioned  by  Goethe  in  his  works, 
and  noted  the  correctness  or  error  of  his  reading 


312  LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

The  mountain  scenes,  more  especially  of  the  Hartz 
Mountains,  and  "  The  Brocken,"  were  peculiarly  diffi 
cult  passages  in  view  of  the  possibly  double  meaning 
of  many  words  when  found  in  any  connection,  and  in 
view  of  the  peculiai  use  which  Goethe  so  independ 
ently  made  of  them.  Hence,  Mr.  Taylor  made 
frequent  excursions  in  Europe  during  the  last  eighteen 
years,  with  the  purpose  in  view  of  obtaining  a  more 
accurate  knowledge  of  Goethe's  thoughts.  Frequent 
references  are  made  to  customs  now  obsolete,  to  theo 
logical  opinions  now  unknown,  and  words  inserted 
long  out  of  use  or  wholly  made  by  the  poet  himself. 
All  these  required  much  study. 

To  know  the  poet  necessitated  a  thorough  insight 
into  the  history  of  his  time,  a  knowledge  of  his  com 
panions  and  the  circumstances  under  which  the  poem 
was  planned  and  written.  This  led  to  the  study  of 
Schiller's  life,  who  was  Goethe's  bosom  friend,  and  to 
trips  to  the  localities  where  Goethe  resided.  Thus  the 
work  opened  wider  and  wider  at  each  stage  iu  his 
acquirements,  until  at  last  the  poem  he  had  thought  to 
be  able  to  read  understandingly  in  a  year,  was  as  yet 
untranslated  after  a  score  of  years. 

He  was  probably  assisted  much  by  the  previous 
translations,  and  had  them  to  criticise  and  improve 
upon.  But  his  work  was  higher  than  theirs,  as  he  not 
only  purposed  to  give  the  meaning  and  rhyme,  but  he 
intended,  as  far  as  possible,  to  retain  the  rythmical 
arrangement,  and  secure  to  the  English  all  the 


HIS   WORKS.  313 

charms  of  arrangement  and  sound  of  the  German 
original. 

In  this  work  he  was  often  interrupted  by  the  calls  ot 
an  editorial  profession,  and  the  cares  of  a  correspond 
ent.  His  greatest  delays  were  occasioned,  however, 
by  the  production  of  poems  on  other  themes.  He  is 
said  to  have  had  the  "Deukalion  "  in  mind  for  more  than 
fifteen  years,  and  upon  that  last  work  of  a  notable 
character  which  he  has  completed  he  bestowed  much 
careful  thought.  It  is  a  poem  which,  like  those  of 
Shakespeare  and  Goethe,  grows  valuable  in  proportion 
to  the  study  bestowed  upon  it. 

He  began  this  translation  in  1850  in  a  vague,  uncer 
tain  way,  and  has  continued  it  through  all  those  years 
and  did  not  lost  sight  of  it  throughout  all  his  various 
duties,  cares,  and  diversions.  Meantime,  he  had  pub 
lished  the  following  works  :  "  A  Journey  to  Central 
Africa,"  "The  Lauds  of  the  Saracen,"  and  "Poems 
and  Ballads,"  in  1855.  "Visit  to  India,  China,  and 
Japan,"  "Poems  of  the  Orient,"  and  "Poems of  Home 
and  Travel,"  in  1855.  "Cyclopedia  of  Modern  Travel," 
edited  in  1856.  "Northern  Travel  — Sweden,  Nor 
way,  Denmark,  and  Lapland,"  1857.  "Travels  in 
Greece  and  Russia,"  "At  Home  and  Abroad,"  first 
series,  in  1859."  "At  Home  and  Abroad,"  second 
series,  and  "The  Poet's  Journal,"  in  1862.  "Hannah 
Thurston,"  a  novel,  in  1863.  "John  Godfrey's  For 
tunes,"  a  novel,  in  1864.  "The  Story  of  Kennett,"  a 
novel,  and  "  The  Picture  of  Saint  John,"  a  poem,  in 


314  LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

1866.  "Colorado,  a  Summer  Trip,"  and  edited  a 
translation  of  the  "Frithjof  Saga,"  from  the  Swedish, 
in  1867.  "The  Byways  of  Europe,"  and  the  "Ballad 
of  Abraham  Lincoln,"  and  an  edited  edition  of  Auer- 
bach's  "Villa  on  the  Rhine,"  in  1869.  "Joseph  and 
His  Friends,"  a  novel,  in  1870.  Then  appeared 
"Goethe's  Faust,"  in  1871,  followed  by  "The  Masque 
of  the  Gods"  (1872),  and  a  collected  and  carefully 
edited  edition  of  the  "Illustrated  Library  of  Travel, 
Exploration  and  Adventure,"  and  "Lars,"  a  poem,  in 
1873;  —  all  of  which  were  in  his  mind,  more  or  less 
distinctly,  previous  to  the  publication  of  "Faust."  But 
"  The  History  of  Germany,"  "  The  Boys  of  other  Coun 
tries,"  ''Egypt  and  Iceland,"  a  volume  of  travel,  "The 
Prophet,"  and  "Home  Pastorals,"  poems,  as  well  as 
the  recent  poem  of  "Deukalion,"  and  "The  Echo 
Club,"  were  subsequently  conceived  and  written. 

Thus,  it  will  be  seen,  how  full  of  interruptions  the 

work  of  translation  must  have  been   when  so  many 

volumes,  so  many  thousands  miles  of  travel,  so  much 

editorial  work,  so  many  lectures,  such  need  of  money, 

nd  so  much  attention  given  to  the  construction  of  a 

'ome,  all  intervened  to  distract  and  discourage. 

Yet,  with  a  perseverance  most  laudable  and  remark 
able,  he  kept  ever  before  him  Goethe  and  his  works. 
Of  the  merits  of  his  translation  no  final  judgment  can 
be  given  until  the  public  have  had  more  time  to  study 
the  work,  and  until  a  greater  number  of  scholars  have 
compared  it  with  the  original.  It  has  received  great 


HIS    GREAT   WORK.  315 

commendation ;  but  such  a  work  requires  age,  and 
much  thought.  Its  beauties  lie  deep,  and  are  hidden 
from  superficial  minds,  and  it  was  Mr.  Taylor's  plan  to 
follow  the  translation  with  a  companion  edition  of  the 
lives  of  Goethe  and  Schiller,  which  would  in  a  pleasant 
way  serve  to  expound  and  make  attractive  that  great 
poem. 

That  his  translation  is  regarded  by  the  most  distin 
guished  scholars  as  an  excellent  production  and  worthy 
of  an  exalted  position  in  literature,  is  shown  by  the 
fact  that  he  has  been  so  often  urged  by  them  to  go  on 
with  his  purposed  biography  of  that  great  poet.  No 
sooner  had  Mr.  Taylor  allowed  the  fact  to  become 
known,  that  he  was  engaged  on  such  a  book,  than  he 
was  the  recipient  of  many  letters  from  all  parts  of  the 
world  where  English-speaking  people  live,  expressing 
their  satisfaction  that  he  had  undertaken  it,  and 
encouraging  him  in  many  ways.  This  fact,  however, 
rather  delayed  than  assisted  the  work,  for  the  appear 
ance  of  so  many  great  writers  awaiting  with  impatience 
the  publication  of  the  book,  startled  him  and  magni 
fied  the  importance  of  his  labors.  He  felt  that  the 
combined  biography  of  Goethe  and  Schiller  would  be 
the  crowning  work  of  his  life,  and  more  than  once 
expressed  the  thought  that  it  might  be  his  last.  To 
supply  the  demand  for  present  publications,  perform 
the  duties  which  devolved  upon  him  in  his  high  office, 
and  keep  steadily  advancing  with  the  greater  work, 
required  more  strength  than  one  frame  could  supply. 


316  LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

He  felt  the  strain,  and  sometimes  thought  it  best  to 
leave  everything  in  the  line  of  labor,  and  rest.  The 
need  of  such  a  course  did  not,  however,  seem  impera 
tive  until  he  was  too  near  his  end  to  ward  off  the  blow. 
Death  came  to  him  in  the  midst  of  his  work,  and  in 
the  most  sudden  manner.  One  day  he  is  seen  at  his 
work  ;  the  next  he  is  numbered  among  those  that  have 
lived  —  but  are  gone.  His  wife  and  daughter  (Lil 
lian),  with  most  devoted  nursing,  had  seen  the  invalid 
of  the  previous  weeks  reviving  and  gaining  strength, 
until  able  again  to  attend  to  business,  when,  almost 
without  warning,  he  sinks  and  dies  within  a  few  hours. 
The  book  for  reference,  the  packages  of  manuscript, 
the  letters  from  admirers  of  Goethe  and  Schiller,  the 
notes  and  extracts,  slips  and  pictures,  lay  where  he 
placed  them,  accessible  to  his  hand  ;  but  the  pen  is 
unmoved,  the  author  is  dead,  and  the  Lives  of  Goethe 
and  Schiller  are  incomplete. 


GRIEF    AT    HIS    DEATH.  317 


CHAPTER  XXXH. 

Grief  at  bis  Death. — Homage  of  the  Great  Men  of  Germany. — 
Tribute  from  Auerbach.  — Tributes  from  his  Neighbors  at  Keu 
nett  Square.  —  Extracts  from  Addresses.  —  The  Great  Memorial 
Gathering  at  Boston.  —  The  Great  Assembly.  —  Speeches  and 
Letters.  — Address  of  Dr.  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes. —  Henry  W. 
Longfellow's  Poem.  —  Letters  from  John  G.  Whittier,  George 
William  Curtis,  W.  D.  Ho\vells,  T.  B.  Aldrich,  James  T.  Fields, 
Whitelaw  Reid,  E.  P.  Whipple. —Tributes  from  his  Near 
Friends.  —  Closing  Quotations  from  Mr.  Taylor's  Writings. 

THE  news  of  Bayard  Taylor's  death  called  forth 
universal  expressions  of  regret.  The  press,  secular 
and  religious,  mentioned  his  decease  with  extended 
editorial  comment  upon  his  useful  and  honorable  life. 
Public  meetings  were  held  to  pay  tribute  to  his  mem 
ory,  and  the  Congress  of  the  United  States  passed  a 
bill  making  Mrs.  Taylor  a  gift  of  seven  thousand  dol 
lars,  as  a  mark  of  the  nation's  appreciation  of  Mr. 
Taylor's  services. 

In  Germany,  memorial  services  were  held,  at  which 
the  greatest  literary  men  of  that  empire  made  ad 
dresses,  showing  their  appreciation  of  Mr.  Taylor's 
friendship  and  scholarship.  But  one  of  the  most 
touching  tributes  which  Germany  has  given  to  the 


318  LIFE    OF    BAYARD    TAYLOR. 

memory  of  the  deceased  poet,  was  uttered  by  the  cele 
brated  Berthold  Auerbach,  whose  books  are  now  found 
in  the  libraries  of  many  different  nations,  and  who  was 
for  many  years  the  intimate  companion  of  Mr.  Taylor. 
In  his  address  made  at  Mr.  Taylor's  funeral  in  Berlin, 
where  were  gathered  a  large  number  of  such  men  as 
Dr.  Joseph  P.  Thompson,  Prof.  Lepsius,  Paul  Lin- 
dau,  Julius  Rodenberg,  Prof.  Gucist,  Dr.  Lowe,  Count 
Lehndorff,  and  numerous  government  officials,  he  thus 
addressed  the  mourning  friends  :  — 

"  Here,  under  flowers  which  have  grown  on  German  soil, 
rests  the  perishable  encasing  wherein  for  fifty-three  years 
was  enshrined  the  richly-endowed  spirit  which  bore  the  name 
of  Bayard  Taylor.  Coming  races  will  name  thee  who  never 
looked  into  thy  kindly  countenance,  never  grasped  thy  hon 
est  hand,  never  heard  a  word  from  thy  mouth.  And  yet  no, 
the  breath  of  the  lips  fadeth  away,  but  thy  words,  thy 
words  o^  song,  will  endure.  In  exhortation  to  thy  surviv 
ing  dear  ones,  from  the  impulse  of  my  heart  as  thine  oldest 
friend  in  the  Old  World,  as  thou  were  wont  to  call  me,  and 
as  representing  German  literature,  I  bid  thee  now  a  parting 
farewell.  What  thou  hast  become  and  art  to  remain  in  the 
empire  of  mind  history  will  determine.  To-day  our  hearts 
do  quake  with  grief  and  sorrow,  and  yet  they  are  exalted. 
Thou  wert  born  in  the  fatherland  of  Benjamin  Franklin,  and 
like  him,  to  thine  honor,  raised  thyself  from  a  state  of 
manual  labor  to  be  an  apostle  of  the  spirit  of  purity  and 
freedom,  and  to  be  a  representative  of  thy  people  among  ao 


AUERBACH'S  ADDRESS.  319 

alien  nation.  No,  not  in  a  land  of  strangers,  for  thou  wert 
at  home  among  us  ;  thou  hast  died  in  the  land  of  Goethe,  to 
whose  high  spirit  thou  didst  always  with  devotion  turn ; 
thou  hast  raised  him  up  a  monument  before  thine  own  peo 
ple,  and  wouldst  erect  him  yet  another  in  presence  of  all 
men  ;  but  that  design  has  disappeared  with  thee.  But  thou 
thyself  hast  been,  and  art  still,  one  of  them  whose  coming 
he  announced — a  disciple  of  the  univeral  literature,  in  the 
free  and  boundless  air  of  which  the  everlasting  element  in 
man,  scorning  the  limits  of  nationality,  mounts  on  bold, 
adventurous  flights  and  ever  on  new  poetic  fancies  sunwards 
soars.  In  thy  very  latest  work  thou  didst  show  thou  livedst 
in  that  religion  which  embraces  in  it  all  creeds,  and  in  the 
name  of  no  one  separates  one  from  another.  Nature  gifted 
thee  with  grace  and  strength,  with  a  soul  clear  and  full  of 
chaste  enjoyment,  with  melody  and  the  tuneful  voice  to 
search  and  proclaim  the  workings  of  nature  in  the  eternal 
and  unexhausted  region  of  being,  as  well  as  to  sing  the 
earthly  and  ever-new  joys  of  married  and  filial  love,  of 
friendship,  truth,  and  patriotism,  and  the  ever  higher  ascend 
ing  revelations  of  the  history  of  man.  Born  in  the  New 
World,  travelled  in  the  Old,  and  oh,  so  soon  torn  from  the 
tree  of  life,  thou  hast  taught  thy  country  the  history  of  the 
German  people,  so  that  they  know  each  other  as  brothers, 
and  of  this  let  us  remain  mindful.  In  tuneful  words  didst 
thou  for  thy  people  utter  the  jubilee  acclaim  of  their  anni 
versary.  When  it  returns,  and  the  husks  of  our  souls  do  lie 
like  this  one  here,  then  will  the  lips  of  millions  yet  unborn 
pronounce  the  name  of  Bayard  Taylor.  May  tb  v  memory 
\)e  bjessecj." 


320  LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

In  one  of  his  poems  Mr.  Taylor  wrote,  in  1862,  — 

"  Fame  won  at  home  is  of  all  fame  the  best," 

And  how  gratifying  has  it  been  to  all  of  Mr.  Taylor's 
friends  to  hear  of  the  memorial  gathering  held  in  his 
native  Kennett,  where  young  and  old  vied  with  each 
other  to  do  their  townsman  honor.  With  a  modesty 
and  sincerity  characteristic  of  the  quiet  community, 
they  assembled  and  talked  of  the  virtues  and  achieve 
ments  of  their  deceased  neighbor. 

One  townsman  (Edwin  Brosius)  referred  to  Mr. 
Taylor's  life,  and  in  his  remarks  spoke  thus  :  — 

"  Locating  in  Kennett  Square  about  the  time  he  returned 
from  his  first  visit  to  Europe,  I  remember  him  as  a  bright, 
blushing,  diffident  youth,  just  entering  manhood  ;  and  with 
him  I  always  associate  that  gentle  and  beautiful  girl,  with 
matchless  eyes,  who  inspired  many  of  his  early  lyrics,  and 
whose  death  '  filled  the  nest  of  love  with  snow.'  He  was 
the  pride  of  the  community  then,  and  as  years  passed  on 
his  course  was  silentty  watched  with  a  quiet  joy,  like  that  a 
parent  feels  for  a  child  that  seems  to  follow  instinctively  the 
true  path.  His  appointment  as  Minister  to  Germany  created 
a  feeling  that  could  be  silent  no  longer,  and  here  in  this  hall 
we  gave  him  the  first  ovation.  No  one  thought  that  when 
we  said  '  Kennett  rejoices  that  the  world  acknowledges  her 
son,'  that  it  would  so  soon  be  meet  to  say  that  Kennett 
mourns  that  her  son  is  dead.  Yes,  mourns  with  a  grief  like 
that  which  he  felt  when  he  wrote  '  Moan,  ye  wild  winds ! 
around  the  pane/ 


FRIENDS   AT   KENNETT.  321 

"  The  weariness  that  oppressed  him  while  being  feted 
on  every  hand,  which  he  thought  was  only  temporary, 
proved  to  be  the  shadow  of  the  coming  change.  A  few 
more  months  and  a  few  more  warnings,  and  all  was  over. 

"  The  strings  are  silent :  who  shall  dare  to  wake  them  ; 

Though  later  deeds  demand  their  living  powers  ? 
Silent  in  other  lands,  what  hand  shall  make  them 
Leap  as  of  old  to  shape  the  songs  of  ours  ?  '•' 

;'  Perhaps  I  have  now  said  enough ;  but  permit  me  to 
speak  briefly  of  one,  still  mentally  bright  under  the  weight 
of  fourscore  years,  the  mother  of  Bayard  Taylor,  to  whom 
we  must  be  indebted  for  much  of  the  honor  her  son  has 
given  us.  The  latent  genius  of  the  mother  was  more  fully 
developed  in  the  son,  and  guarded,  strengthened,  and  encour 
aged  by  her  watchful  mind,  he  became  all  that  she  could 
desire.  When  here  at  school,  I  remember  how  bright  I 
thought  she  was,  and  my  admiration  was  not  lessened  when 
she  called  me  one  of  her  boys.  The  voices  of  two  of  her 
sons  are  now  silent  in  the  tomb.  One  taken  when  full  of 
hope,  in  the  bloom  of  youth,  while  defending  his  county's 
flag.  The  other  in  the  full  fruitage  of  mature  life,  bearing 
many  honors,  and  the  pillar  of  the  family,  a  loss  to  her 
which  she  cannot  tell.  We  may  speak  or  write  our  grief, 
but  no  human  pen  or  tongue  can  express  hers  ;  words  can 
not  tell  how  nearly  the  light  of  hope  goes  out  when  such 
treasures  are  taken  from  a  mother's  sight  and  heart." 

Another  friend  (Wm.   B.    Preston)    contributed  a 

poem,  in  which  two  stanzas  read  as  follows :  — 
u 


322  LIFE   OF  OATARD  TAYLOB. 

"  Though  to  the  learned  thy  lofty  works 

Like  mighty  hosts  appear ; 
The  tale  of  her  own  neighborhood 
Bids  Kennett  hold  the  dear. 

And  Cedarcroft !   thy  name  will  shine 

Through  ages  long  to  come, 
With  Stratford  and  with  Abbotsford, 

The  monarch  minstrel's  home." 

Another  neighbor  (William  W.  Polk)  gave  au 
extended  sketch  of  Mr.  Taylor's  career,  and  another 
neighbor  (Edward  Swayne)  contributed  the  second 
poem,  opening  with,  — 

"  On  the  margin  of  the  Spree 
Bests  his  body,  is  it  hef 
Is  it  all  T  or  only  part  T 
Questions  still  my  doubting  hea/t. 
Traveller !  in  what  realm,  elate, 
Dost  thou  read  the  book  of  fate  7 
Poet !  in  what  finer  mood 
Singest  thou  infinitude  f 
Dost  thou  know  the  path  we  tend  T 
The  beginning  and  the  end  T 
Backward  through  the  twilight  past 
What  evolved  us  from  the  vast  T 
Forward,  to  what  things  afar, 
We  shall  mount  from  star  to  star  T 
Canst  thou  see  beyond  the  brink 
What  we  faintly  dare  to  think  I 
Though  our  thoughts  are  wrung  with  paia 
Yet  we  question  but  in  vain. 
Still  no  sound  the  silence  breaks, 
Not  to  us  the  dead  awakes." 


FRIENDS    IN   BOSTON.  323 

Numerous  friends  addressed  the  gathering ;  there  were 
hymns,  quotations,  and  letters  from  others,  and  the 
whole  people  exhibited  an  interest  in  honoring  his 
memory. 

At  Boston,  Mass.,  there  was  held,  shortly  after  Mr. 
Taylor's  death,  one  of  the  most  notable  gatherings  ever 
seen  in  America,  so  spontaneous  and  universal  was 
the  desire  to  do  honor  to  their  deceased  countryman. 
The  gathering  was  in  Tremont  Temple,  and  was  under 
the  auspices  of  a  literary  association  known  as  "  The 
Boston  Young  Men's  Congress."  The  young  men 
studiously  avoided  any  arrangement  or  announcement 
which  would  give  the  gathering  any  appearance  of 
display  or  ceremony,  and  the  friends  of  Mr.  Taylor  in 
that  city  came  together  in  such  numbers,  that  long 
before  the  hour  appointed  for  the  opening  of  the  meet 
ing,  that  great  hall  was  crowded  in  every  part,  while 
immense  crowds  so  choked  the  entrances  that  the 
police  were  obliged  to  close  the  gates  and  shut  out  the 
throng.  The  great  majority  of  the  audience  consisted 
of  literary  persons  and  of  officials  of  the  State  and 
nation.  Russell  H.  Conwell  presided,  and  opened  the 
exercises  by  giving  a  brief  sketch  of  Mr.  Taylor's 
early  life,  after  which  there  followed  other  informal 
addresses  by  Dr.  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes;  Richard 
Frothingham,  the  historian ;  A.  B.  Alcott,  the  author ; 
J.  Boyle  O'Reilly,  the  poet;  Hon.  J.  B.  D.  Cogs- 


324  LIFE    OF    BAYARD    TAYLOR. 

well,  the  president  of  the  Massachusetts  Senate; 
Curtis  Guild,  the  author  ;  Dr.  William  M.  Cornell,  and 
others.  Letters  were  read  from  James  T.  Fields, 
George  William  Curtis,  W.  D.  Howells,  E.  P.  Whip- 
pie,  John  G.  Whittier,  T.  B.  Aldrich,  and  regrets 
for  their  inability  to  be  present  expressed  by  President 
Rutherford  B.  Hayes,  Hon.  Charles  Devens,  ex-Gov 
ernor  Henry  Howard,  of  Rhode  Island,  General  B.  F. 
Butler,  Richard  H.  Dana,  Sr.,  W.  A.  Simmons,  W. 
F.  Warren,  D.  D.,  Mrs.  Louise  Chandler  Moulton, 
Governor  Thomas  Talbot,  of  Massachusetts,  and  many 
other  distinguished  men. 

The  crowning  feature  of  the  evening's  exercises  con 
sisted  in  the  reading  of  Longfellow's  poem,  "Bayard 
Taylor,"  by  Dr.  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes.  The  audi 
ence,  hushed  into  almost  breathless  silence,  hung  upon 
Dr.  Holmes's  introductory  remarks,  with  a  fascination 
seldom  seen,  and  when  that  sweet  poem  was  reached, 
and  its  reading  began,  tears  were  seen  in  many  eyes, 
so  pathetic  and  solemn  was  the  impression. 

The  grand  chorus  of  the  Boston  Mendelssohn  Choral 
Union,  under  the  direction  of  Prof.  Stephen  A.  Emery, 
of  the  New  England  Conservatory  of  Music,  sang  in 
a  most  artistic  and  impressive  manner  some  of  those 
charming  old  German  chorals  which  Mr.  Taylor  loved 
so  much,  and  pleased  the  audience  much  with  its  ren 
dition  of  "Oh,  for  the  wings  of  a  Dove,"  with  Mr, 
Wilkie  and  Miss  Fisher  as  soloists. 


DR.    HOLMES'S   ADDRESS.  325 

Nothing  can  show  the  regard  in  which  Mr,  Taylor 
svas  held,  better  than  the  contributions  to  that  informal 
gathering,  and  we  cannot  do  less  than  preserve  some 
of  them  for  the  benefit  of  posterity,  especially  as  it 
was  that  gathering  which  suggested  this  book. 

Dr.  Holmes's  address  was  nearly  as  follows  :  — 

4 '  I  can  hardly  ask  your  attention  to  the  lines  which  Mr. 
Longfellow  has  written,  and  done  me  the  honor  of  asking 
me  to  read,  without  a  few  words  of  introduction.  The  poem 
should  have  flowed  from  his  own  lips  in  those  winning 
accents  too  rarely  heard  in  any  assembly,  and  never  forgot 
ten  by  those  who  have  listened  to  him.  But  its  tenderness 
and  sweetness  are  such  that  no  imperfection  of  utterance 
can  quite  spoil  its  harmonies.  There  are  tones  in  the  con 
tralto  of  our  beloved  poet's  melodious  song  that  were  bora 
with  it,  and  must  die  with  it  when  its  music  is  silenced. 

' '  A  tribute  from  such  a  singer  would  honor  the  obsequies 
of  the  proudest  sovereign,  would  add  freshness  to  the  laurels 
of  the  mightiest  conqueror.  But  he  who  this  evening  has 
this  tribute  laid  upon  his  hearse,  wore  no  crown  save  that 
which  the  sisterhood  of  the  Muses  wove  for  him.  His  vic 
tories  were  all  peaceful  ones,  and  there  has  been  no  heart 
ache  after  any  of  them.  His  life  was  a  journey  through 
many  lands  of  men,  through  many  realms  of  knowledge. 
He  left  his  humble  door  in  boyhood,  poor,  untrained, 
unknown,  unheralded,  unattended.  He  found  himself,  once 
at  least,  as  I  well  remember  his  telling  me,  hungry  and  well- 
nigh  penniless  in  the  streets  of  an  European  city,  feasting 


326  LIFE   OF  BAYARD   TAYLOR. 

his  eyt>  at  a  baker's  window  and  tightening  his  girdle  in 
place  of  a  icpast.  Once  more  he  left  his  native  land,  now 
in  the  strength  of  manhood,  known  and  honored  throughout 
the  world  of  letters,  the  sovereignty  of  the  nation  investing 
him  with  its  mantle  of  dignity,  the  laws  of  civilization  sur 
rounding  him  with  the  halo  of  their  inviolable  sanctity,  — 
the  boy  who  went  forth  to  view  the  world  afoot,  now  on 
equal  footing  with  the  potentates  and  princes  who,  by  right 
of  birth  or  by  the  might  of  intellect,  swayed  the  destinies 
of  great  empires. 

•'  He  returns  to  us  no  more  as  we  remember  him,  but  his 
career,  his  example,  the  truly  American  story  of  a  grand, 
cheerful,  active,  self-developing,  self-sustaining  life,  remains 
as  an  enduring  inheritance  for  all  coming  generations." 

Mr.  Longfellow's  poem,  as  read  by  Dr.  Holmes, 
was  as  fellows  :  — 

"  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

"  Dead  he  lay  among  his  books  I 
The  peace  of  God  was  in  his  looks. 

As  the  statues*  in  the  gloom, 
Watch  o'er  Maximilian's  tomb, 

So  those  volumes  from  their  shelves 
Watched  him,  silent  as  themselves. 

Ah !  his  hand  will  never  more 
Turn  their  storied  pages  o'er ; 

Never  more  his  lips  repeat 
Songs  of  theirs,  however  sweet. 

•  In  the  Hof  kirche,  at  Innsbruck. 


LONGFELLOW'S  POEM.  B27 

Let  the  lifeless  body  rest ! 
He  is  gone  who  was  its  guest. 

Gone  as  travellers  haste  to  leave 
An  inn,  nor  tarry  nntil  eve. 

Traveller  1  in  what  realms  afar, 
In  what  planet,  in  what  star, 

In  what  vast  aerial  space, 
Shines  the  light  upon  thy  face  I 

In  what  gardens  of  delight 
Rest  thy  weary  feet  to-night  ? 

Poet !  thou  whose  latest  verse 
Was  a  garland  on  thy  hearse, 

Thou  hjist  sung  with  organ  tone 
In  Deukalion's  life  thine  own. 

On  the  ruins  of  the  Past 
Blooms  the  perfect  flower,  at  last. 

Friend!  but  yesterday  the  bells 
Rang  for  thee  their  loud  farewells ; 

And  to-day  they  toll  for  thee, 
Lying  dead  beyond  the  sea ; 

Lying  dead  among  thy  books ; 
The  peace  of  God  in  all  thy  looks." 

—  HENRY  WADSWORTH  LONGFELLOW. 

We   also  insert  a  part  of  Dr.  Win.  M.  Cornell's 
address :  — 


328  LIFE    OF   BAYARD    TAYLOR. 

*  MR.  PRESIDENT  :  —  As  you  have  introduced  me  as  l  The 
Historian  of  Pennsylvania,'  or,  '  Penn's  Woods,'  as  3'ou 
know  the  terra  means,  you  will  allow  me  to  say  something 
of  that  good  old  noble  Commonwealth  which  gave  birth  to 
Bayard  Ta}'lor,  whose  recent  and  sudden  demise  has  called 
us  together.  As  he  was  a  worthy  son  of  that  Quaker  land, 
something  about  it  may  be  expected  of  their  historian.  I 
know  the  Quakers  have  never  had  much  love  for  Boston, 
and  I  do  not  think  they  are  to  blame  for  it  either ;  foi 
if  you  had  treated  me  as  they  were  treated  in  this  vicin 
ity,  with  all  the  grace  given  me  I  don't  think  my  love  for 
you  would  superabound.  But  we  will  not  revive,  on  this 
solemn  occasion,  the  bigotry  and  illiberality  of  the  past, 
especially  as  this  vast  audience,  assembled  in  this  old  Pil 
grim  city  to  honor  the  memory  of  a  gifted  son  of  Quaker- 
dom,  looks  very  much  like  c  bringing  forth  fruits  meet  for 
repentance '  of  those  deeds  of  yore. 

u  Grand  old  Pennsylvania!  the  ke}Tstone  of  the  nation; 
for  you  all  know  the  old  proverb,  '  As  goes  Pennsylvania, 
so  goes  the  Union,  —  I  honor  thy  name!  Thy  sons  are 
patriots  !  The  Indian  sachem  said  to  the  first  '  pale  faces  ' 
who  came  here  (understand,  I  speak  as  a  Pennsylvanian,  in 
accordance  with  my  introduction),  'This  is  our  ground. 
We  came  up  right  out  of  this  ground,  and  it  is  our  ground. 
You  came  up  out  of  ground  away  beyond  the  big  waters, 
and  that's  your  ground.' 

' '  Bayard  Taylor,  the  poet,  the  traveller,  the  biographer, 
the  botanist,  the  patriot,  the  plenipotentiary,  whom  we  so 
justly  mourn,  came  up  out  of  this  land.  He  was  a  true  son 


LETTERS.  329 

of  our  soil,  which  has  always  produced  patriots.  Think  you 
President  Hayes  did  not  know  this  when  he  appointed  him 
Minister  to  that  grand  old  nation,  Germany,  —  the  land  of 
Emperor  William,  and  Minister  Bismarck,  —  the  most  learned 
in  the  world  ?  The  President  did  honor  to  himself  by  this 
appointment,  and  Bayard  Taylor  did  honor  to  our  nation, 
and  is  mourned  by  the  whole  world." 

Omitting  the   address   of  the   letters   for   sake  of 
brevity,  we  insert  several : — 

44  DEAR  SIR  :  —  Will  you  have  the  kindness  to  express  to 
the  committee  of  arrangements  my  deep  regret  at  not  being 
able  to  attend  the  meeting  at  Tremont  Temple  in  honor  of 
Ba}rard  Taylor's  memory.  I  sail  from  New  York  for 
Europe  on  the  8th  instant.  I  also  regret  that  the  pressure 
of  private  matters  will  not  allow  me  to  prepare  a  tribute  to 
my  old  friend.  You  will  understand  how  nearly  his  death 
touches  me,  when  I  say  that  it  breaks  an  unclouded  inti 
macy  of  twenty-four  years.  If  it  should  be  in  order,  perhaps 
some  one  will  read  the  poem  which  I  printed  in  the  New 
York  '  Tribune '  on  Christmas  morning.  I  orclose  a  coj>y. 
44  Yours,  very  respectfully, 
44  THOMAS  BAILEY 

To  which  was  attached  the  following  poem 

"  In  other  years  —  lost  youth's  enchanted  years 
Seen  now  and  evermore,  through  blinding  tears 
And  empty  longing  for  what  may  not  be  — 


330  LIFE  OF*  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

The  Desert  gave  him  back  to  us  ;  the  Sea 

Yielded  him  up  ;  the  icy  Northland  strand 

Lured  him  not  long,  nor  that  soft  German  air 

He  loved  could  keep  him.    Ever  his  own  land 

Fettered  his  heart  and  brought  him  back  again. 

What  sounds  are  those  of  farewell  and  despair 

Blown  by  the  winds  across  the  wintry  main  T 

What  unknown  way  is  this  that  he  has  gone, 

Our  Bayard,  in  such  silence,  and  alone  ? 

What  new,  strange  guest  has  tempted  him  once  more 

To  leave  us  f    Vainly  standing  by  the  shore 

We  strain  our  eyes.    But  patience  .  .  .  when  the  soft 

Spring  gales  are  blowing  over  Cedarcroft, 

Whitening  the  hawthorn ;  when  violets  bloom 

Among  the  Brandywine,  and  overhead 

The  sky  is  blue  as  Italy's  —  he  will  come ; 

Ay,  he  will  come.    I  cannot  make  him  dead." 

"  DEAR  FRIEND  :  —  I  am  not  able  to  attend  the  memorial 
meeting  in  Tremont  Temple  on  the  10th  instant,  but  my 
heart  responds  to  any  testimonial  appreciative  of  the  intel 
lectual  achievements  and  the  noble  and  manly  life  of  Bayard 
Taylor.  More  than  thirty  years  have  intervened  between 
my  first  meeting  him  in  the  fresh  bloom  of  his  youth  and 
hope  and  honorable  ambition,  and  my  last  parting  with  him 
under  the  elms  of  Boston  Common  after  our  visit  to  Richard 
H.  Dana,  on  the  occasion  of  the  90th  anniversary  of  that 
honored  father  of  American  poetry,  still  living  to  lament  the 
death  of  his  younger  disciple  and  friend.  How  much  he  has 
accomplished  in  these  years  !  The  most  industrious  of  men, 
slowly,  patiently,  under  many  disadvantages,  he  built  up  his 
splendid  reputation.  Traveller,  editor,  novelist,  translator, 


LETTERS.  331 

diplomatist,  and  through  all  and  above  all  poet,  what  he  was 
he  owed  wholly  to  himself.  His  native  honesty  was  satisfied 
with  no  half  tasks.  He  finished  as  he  went,  and  always  said 
and  did  his  best. 

"  It  is  perhaps  too  early  to  assign  him  his  place  in  Ameri 
can  literature.  His  picturesque  books  of  travel,  his  Oriental 
lyrics,  his  Pennsylvanian  idyls,  his  Centennial  ode,  the 
pastoral  beauty  and  Christian  sweetness  of  '  Lars,'  and  the 
high  arguments  and  lythmic  marvel  of  '  Deukalion/  are 
sureties  of  the  permanence  of  his  reputation.  But  at  this 
moment  my  thoughts  dwell  rather  upon  the  man  than  author. 
The  calamity  of  his  death,  felt  in  both  hemispheres,  is  to  me 
and  to  all  who  intimately  knew  and  loved  him,  a  heavy  per 
sonal  loss.  Under  the  shadow  of  this  bereavement,  in  the 
inner  circle  of  mourning,  we  sorrow  most  of  all  that  we  shall 
see  his  face  no  more,  and  long  for  c  the  touch  of  a  vanished 
hand  and  the  sound  of  a  voice  that  is  still.' 

"  Thy  friend, 

"JOHN  G.  WHITTIER." 

"DEAR  SIR:  —  I  very  much  regret  that  I  shall  not  be 
able  to  accept  the  invitation  of  the  Young  Men's  Congress 
for  Friday  evening  of  next  week.     At  the  same  time  I  wish 
in  heartiest  sympathy  to  unite  with  them  in  honor  ng  the 
memory  of  Bayard  Taylor,  whom  I  not  only  valued  as  a  man 
of  the  highest  intellectual  qualities,  but  in  whose  loss  I  have 
to  lament  a  dear  friend.     I  beg  you  to  convey  to  the  com 
mittee  of  arrangements  my  deep  sense  of  honor  done  me. 
"Very  truly  yours, 

"W.  D.  HOWELLS." 


332  LIFE   OF  BATARD 


"Mr  DEAR  SIR:  —  An  illness  which  confines  me  to  the 
house  will  prevent  my  being  present  at  the  meeting  of  the 
19th  instant.  I  regret  the  circumstance  very  deeply,  as  it 
pains  me  to  be  absent  on  any  occasion  in  which  the  memory 
of  Bayard  Taylor  is  to  be  honored. 

"  Very  sincerely  yours, 

"E.  P.  WHIPPLE." 

"GENTLEMEN  OF  THE  COMMITTEE  OF  THE  TAYLOR  MEMO 
RIAL  :  —  An  imperative  duty  calls  me  to  a  distant  county  of 
the  State  on  the  evening  set  apart  for  the  meeting  at  Tremont 
Temple.  But  even  if  I  were  not  obliged  to  be  absent  from 
our  city  on  that  night,  I  doubt  if  I  should  have  the  courage 
to  be  present  and  trust  my  voice  with  any  words  fitting  to 
such  an  occasion.  The  departure  of  my  dear  Bayard  Taylor 
is  so  recent,  his  loss  so  unexpected,  that  my  lips  could  only 
falter  out  a  few  broken  expressions  of  individual  sorrow, 
and  I  should  be  wholly  incapable  of  any  adequate  public 
tribute  to  his  memory.  So  many  years  of  exceptional  and 
near  relationship  with  him  —  a  brotherly  intercourse,  un 
clouded  from  early  manhood  onward  through  his  life  —  would 
incapacitate  me  from  taking  part  before  an  audience  as 
sembled  to  honor  his  genius  and  his  virtues,  and  I  should 
probably  be  able  only  to  stammer  through  tears  an  apology 
for  my  inability  to  speak  his  praises.  These  tender  words 
by  Halleck  better  convey  my  meaning  :  — 

1  While  memory  bids  me  weep  tliee, 
Nor  thoughts  nor  words  are  free, 
The  grief  is  fixed  too  deeply 
That  mourns  a  man  like  thee.' 

"  JAMES  T.  FIELDS/' 


LETTERS.  333 

"DEAR  SIR: —  I  am  very  sorry  that  my  engagements 
compel  me  to  decline  your  invitation  to  attend  the  meeting 
in  memory  of  Bayard  Taylor.  But  no  one  will  say  any  word 
of  praise  of  his  manly  and  generous  character,  or  of  grati 
tude  for  his  noble  example  of  faithful  industry,  to  which  my 
heart  will  not  respond.  I  knew  him  well  for  nearly  thirty 
years,  and  when  I  said  good-by  to  him  last  May,  as  he  de 
parted,  amid  universal  applausa  and  satisfaction,  upon  a 
mission  to  Germany,  he  was  as  frank  and  simple  and  earnest 
as  the  youth  whom  I  remember  long  ago.  He  died  in  the 
fulness  of  his  activity  and  hope  ;  but  the  death  of  a  man  so 
true  and  upright  leaves  us  a  sorrow  wholly  unmixed  with  the 
wish  that  his  life  might  have  been  different,  or  with  regret 
that  it  was  only  a  promise.  Like  the  knight-at-arms,  whose 
name  he  bore,  he  was  a  gentle  knight  of  letters,  without  fear 
and  without  reproach,  and  by  those  of  us  who  personally 
knew  him  well  he  will  be  long  and  tenderly  remembered. 
"  Truly  yours, 

"GEORGE  WILLIAM  CURTIS." 

"DEAR  SIR:  —  Nothing  but  an  imperative  engagement 
elsewhere  could  keep  me  from  uniting  with  those  friends  of 
my  friend  —  Bayard  Taylor  —  who  propose  next  Frida}7,  in 
Boston,  to  commemorate  his  life  and  virtues.  From  our 
professional  association,  I  could  not  but  know  him  in 
timately,  and  he  was  one  of  the  few  men  of  distinction  with 
whom  every  added  year  of  intimacy  continued  to  brighten, 
not  merely  your  affection,  but  also  your  respect.  The 
essential  characteristic  alike  of  his  life,  and  his  work,  was 
its  inherent  honesty.  He  described  what  he  saw  ;  he  wrote 
what  he  thought;  he  meant  friendship  if  he  gave  you  hia 


334  LIFE   OF  BAYARD   TAYLOR. 

hand.  I  never  knew  him  to  shrink  from  expressing  an 
opinion,  merely  because  it  was  unpopular ;  and,  I  am  sure, 
he  never  sought  a  man  merely  because  the  man  was  power 
ful.  He  had  an  honest  pride  in  what  he  had  done,  —  a  pride 
that  made  him  eager  to  share  his  good  fame  and  fortune 
with  his  earliest  and  humblest  friends.  He  had  the  genius 
of  hard  work.  He  did  many  things ;  he  came  to  do  most 
of  them  extremely  well,  and  not  a  few  of  them  easily ;  but 
he  never  undertook  any  task,  however  familiar,  or  however 
humble,  without  doing  his  best.  Those  who  did  not  know 
him,  have  sometimes  described  him  as  more  German  than 
American ;  but  if  these  be  German  qualities,  we  may  well 
be  eager  to  see  them  naturalized. 

"  Quick  to  the  praise  of  his  old  Quaker  friends,  nothing 
touched  him  more  than  the  praise  of  Boston ;  and  to  those 
that  prize  his  memory,  nothing  now  can  be  more  grateful 
than  the  sympathetic  appreciation  of  your  meeting. 

"  I  am,  very  respectfully, 

"  WHITELAW  REID." 

"Mr  DEAR  CONWELL  : — I  acknowledge  the  courtesy 
of  your  invitation  to  do  myself  the  honor  to  take  part  in 
honoring  my  deceased  friend,  —  the  late  Minister  at  Ber 
lin. 

"  I  am  grieved  beyond  expression  that  the  necessities  of 
public  duty  require  my  leaving  so  early  for  Washington, 
that,  in  making  my  arrangements,  it  is  impossible  for  me  to 
be  in  town  overnight. 

"  Independent  of  the  public  relations  of  duty,  it  is  well  to 
pause  to  do  honor  to  one  who  has  so  faithfully  and  well 
served  his  country,  and  his  kind.  I  have  the  deepest  sensi- 


LETTERS.  333 

bilities  of  remembrance  of  Bayard  Taylor's  personal  kind 
ness  to  me  on  many  occasions,  and  especially  as  his  guest, 
to  incite  me  to  be  present. 

"  I  am  glad  that  Massachusetts,  in  the  meeting  you  assem 
ble,  will  show  her  appreciation  of  his  character  and  services, 
and  regret,  with  more  than  ordinary  emotion,  that  I  am 
prevented  from  taking  part  in  it. 

"  Please  represent  me  as  wishing  to  say  and  do  all  that  I 
might  in  that  behalf,  and  believe  me, 

"  Yours  truly, 

"  BENJ.  F.  BUTLER." 

Mr.  Taylor  had  been  a  great  favorite  at  the  Century 
Club,  in  New  York,  and  a  frequent  visitor  at  the  Lotus 
Club  of  the  same  city.  He  was  usually  accompanied 
by  some  one  or  two  of  his  intimate  friends,  and  at  the 
time  Mr.  Taylor's  death  was  announced,  several  o£ 
them  who  had  been  known  to  be  his  close  companions 
were  requested  to  give  to  tbe  w  Tribune "  letters  of 
w  reminiscences  "  for  publication.  Among  these  thus 
hastily  collected  tributes  were  several  of  those  which 
follow.  Mr.  Richard  H.  Stoddard  said :  -  — 

"  I  have  known  Mr.  Bayard  Taylor  so  long  that  I  hardly 
know  when  our  acquaintance  began.  It  was  at  least  thirty 
years  ago,  during  his  first  year's  residence  in  New  York,  after 
his  tour  in  Europe  and  the  publication  of  his  l  Views  Afoot.1 
The  occasion  of  our  acquaintance  was  a  magazine  which  had 


336  LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

lately  been  started  here,  and  which  was  edited  by  Mrs. 
Caroline  M.  Kirkland,  one  of  my  earliest  and  best  literary 
friends.  I  had  contributed  to  this  periodical,  which  was 
entitled  '  The  Union  Magazine,'  and  on  her  departure 
for  Europe  she  recommended  me  to  call  upon  her  young 
friend,  Mr.  Taylor,  who  was  to  take  care  of  it  for  her  dur 
ing  her  absence.  She  was  sure  I  would  like  him,  for  we 
were  Arcades  ambo.  I  called  upon  him,  and  liked  him,  as 
she  had  foreseen  I  would.  I  found  him  in  the  editorial 
room  of  the  '  Tribune,'  a  dingy,  dusty,  comfortless  den  on 
the  same  floor  with  the  composing-room,  if  I  remember 
rightly.  He  was  seated  on  the  hither  side  of  an  old  ink- 
stained  desk,  which  was  surrounded  by  a  railing,  over  which 
newspapers  were  flung,  and  was  writing  rapidly.  He  looked 
up  when  I  addressed  him  and  stated  my  errand  —  a  bright, 
joyous,  handsome  man  of  twenty-five,  with  a  world  of 
animation  in  his  sparkling  dark  eyes.  I  have  no  recollec 
tion  of  what  passed  between  us,  except  that  the  poem  which 
was  in  his  hands  was  accepted,  and  that  we  had  taken  a 
fancy  to  each  other.  I  went  away  feeling  happy,  for  I  felt 
that  I  had  made  a  friend,  and  one  who  could  sympathize 
with  me.  There  were  two  bonds  between  us — love  of  verse, 
and  equalitv  of  3Tears.  He  was  the  first  man  of  letters  who 
had  treated  me  like  one  of  the  craft,  and  I  was  grateful  to 
him,  as  I  should  have  been,  for  I  was  weary  of  the  intel 
lectual  snobbery  I  had  undergone  from  others. 

"It  was  not  long  before  we  were  what  Burns  calls  k  bosom 
cronies/  We  used,  I  remember,  to  spend  our  Saturday 
evenings  together,  generally  at  his  rooms,  which  were  within 


OTHER    TRIBUTES.  337 

A  stone's  throw  of  the  '  Tribune '  office,  at  a  boarding- 
house  in  Warren  Street,  not  far  from  Broadway.  He  lived 
in  a  sky  parlor,  which  is  present  before  me  now,  as  if  I  had 
seen  it  but  an  hour  ago.  I  remember  just  where  his  table 
stood,  and  the  little  desk  upon  which  he  afterward  wrote 
so  many  books,  and  upon  which  he  was  then  writing  so 
many  charming  poems.  I  took  up  the  collected  edition  of 
his  poetical  works  this  afternoon  in  my  librarj7,  and  turning 
over  the  leaves  sorrowfully,  felt  the  weight  of  thirty  years 
roll  from  me  —  not  lightly,  as  it  would  have  done  a  few 
weeks  ago,  but  with  a  pain  for  which  I  have  no  words. 
They  were  all  there,  the  poems  which  I  remembered  so  well 
—  '  Ariel  in  the  Cloven  Pine  '  (which  I  read  in  MS.  before 
it  saw  the  light  of  print) ,  '  The  Metempsychosis  of  the 
Pine,'  i  Mon-da-min '  (which  was  written  years  before  the 
4  Song  of  Hiawatha ') ,  '  Kubleh,'  and,  saddest  of  all,  the 
solemn  dirge  beginning  '  Moan,  ye  wild  winds  !  around  the 
pane."  As  I  read,  I  saw  the  eager  face,  the  glowing  eyes, 
the  kindly  smile  of  the  enthusiastic  young  poet,  whom  the 
world  preferred  to  consider  as  a  traveller  merely,  and  who 
knew  so  many  things  of  which  I  was  profoundly  ignorant. 
My  nature  is  not  a  reverent  one,  I  fear,  but  I  looked  up  to 
Bayard  Taylor,  and  admired  his  beautiful  genius.  We  read 
and  criticised  each  other's  verse  a  good  deal  too  lightly  and 
generously,  I  have  since  thought,  and  talked  of  the  poets 
whom  we  were  studying.  It  was  his  fancy  that  there  was 
something  in  his  genius  which  was  allied  to  that  of  Shelley, 
and  1  hoped  that  I  might  claim  some  relationship  with  Keats, 
enough  at  least  to  make  me  a  '  poor  relation.'  We  talked 
a 


338  LIFE    OF   BAYARD    TAYLOli. 

long  and  late ;  we  smoked  mild  cigars ;  and,  once  in  a  while 
when  our  exchequers  were  replenished,  we  indulged  in  the 
sweet  luxury  of  stewed  oysters,  over  which  we  had  more 
talk,  of  present  plans  and  future  renown.  I  was,  I  believe, 
Bayard  Taylor's  most  intimate  friend  at  this  time,  and  the 
one  with  whom  he  most  consorted,  though  he  had,  of  course, 
a  large  literary  acquaintance  among  the  young  writers  of 
the  period,  whose  name  was  Legion,  and  whose  works  are 
now  forgotten.  I  have  spent  many  happy  nights  with  my 
dead  friend,  but  none  which  were  so  happy  as  those.  I 
looked  forward  to  them  as  young  men  look  forward  to  holi 
days  which  they  have  planned.  I  look  back  upon  them  as 
old  men  look  back  to  their  past  delights,  with  pity  and 
regret. 

11  The  world,  as  I  have  said,  considered  Bayard  Taylor  as 
a  traveller,  and  it  was  his  pleasure,  as  well  as  his  profit, 
during  the  first  years  of  our  friendship,  to  travel  largely  in 
California,  in  Egypt,  in  Japan,  and  elsewhere  in  the  Old 
World.  I  read  his  letters  of  travel  as  they  appeared  in  the 
4  Tribune/  and  I  read  these  letters  again  which  he  collected 
thus  in  books  after  his  return.  I  saw  that  they  were  good 
of  their  kind ;  I  felt  that  his  prose  was  admirable  for  its 
simplicity  and  correctness ;  but,  with  a  waywardness  which 
I  could  not  help,  I  slighted  them  for  his  poetry.  I  thought 
then,  and  think  still,  that  his  'California  Ballads'  and 
4  Poems  of  Travel '  are  masterly  examples  of  spirited,  pic 
turesque  writing,  and  I  am  sure  that  his  '  Poems  of  the 
Orient '  are  superior  to  anything  of  the  kind  in  the  English 
language.  They  have  a  local  color  which  is  absent  from 


OTHER   TRIBUTES.  339 

*  Lalla  Rookh.'  The  c  Bedouin  Song/  for  instance,  is 
instinct  with  the  fiery,  passionate  life  of  the  East,  and  is  a 
worthy  companion-piece  to  Shelley's  4  Lines  to  an  Indian 
Air.'  The  '  Poems  of  the  Orient'  were  dedicated  to  me,  1 
shall  always  be  happy  to  remember,  in  a  poetical  c  Epistle 
from  Tmolus.' 

"  Bayard  Taylor  had  a  sunny  nature,  which  delighted  in 
simple  pleasures,  and  he  had  the  happy  art  of  putting 
trouble  away  from  him.  One  trouble,  however,  he  could 
not  put  away,  as  those  who  are  familiar  with  his  life  and 
poems  are  aware.  I  have  spoken  of  one  of  his  early  poems 
('  Moan,  ye  wild  winds  !  around  the  pane ') ,  which  embodied 
the  first  great  sorrow  of  his  young  manhood.  It  was  writ 
ten  after  the  death  of  his  first  wife,  whose  memory  it  em 
balms,  and  whose  tender  presence  haunted  him  later  in 
1  The  Mystery '  and  '  The  Phantom.'  Among  the  literary 
acquaintances  of  Bayard  Taylor  and  myself,  I  must  not  for 
get  to  mention  the  late  Fitz  James  O'Brien,  whose  promise 
was  greater  than  his  performance,  and  who,  clever  as  he 
was  in  prose,  was  at  his  best  a  graceful  poet.  Taylor  and 
O'Brien  were  in  the  habit  of  meeting  in  my  rooms  at  night, 
about  twenty-five  years  ago,  and  of  fighting  triangular 
poetical  duels.  We  used  to  sit  at  the  same  table,  with  the 
names  of  poetical  subjects  on  slips  of  paper,  and  drawing 
out  one  at  random,  see  which  of  us  would  soonest  write  a 
poem  upon  it.  This  practice  of  ours,  which  is  well  enough 
as  practice  merely,  was  the  origin  of  Bayard  Taylor's  '  Echo 
Club.' 

*4  Always  a  charming  companion,  Bayard  Taylor  was 


340  LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

delightful  in  his  own  home  at  Cedarcrofb.  I  remember  visit 
ing  him  there  when  he  gave  his  i  house-warming,'  and  the 
merriment  we  had  over  a  play  which  we  wrote  together, 
speech  by  speech,  and  scene  by  scene,  and  which  we  per 
formed  to  the  great  delectation  of  his  friends  and  neighbors. 
Many  of  the  latter  had  never  seen  a  theatrical  performance 
before,  and,  I  dare  say,  have  never  seen  one  since.  Our 
play  was  a  great  success,  and  ought  to  have  been,  for  there 
was  not  a  word  in  it  which  had  not  done  duty  a  thousand 
times  before  !  We  called  it  c  Love  in  a  Hotel.'  4  Miller 
Redivivus '  would  have  answered  just  as  well,  if  not  better. 

4 '  The  recollections  of  thirty  years  cannot  be  recalled  at 
will,  and  seldom  while  those  who  shared  them  with  us  are 
overshadowed  by  death.  I  remember  merry  days  and  nights 
without  number,  and  I  remember  sorrows  which  are  better 
forgotten.  One  of  my  sorrows  was  deeply  felt  by  Bayard 
Taylor,  who,  fresh  from  the  reading  of  the  second  part  of 
4  Faust,'  saw  in  my  loss  a  vision  of  Goethe's  '  Euphorion.' 

"The  last  time,  but  one,  when  I  saw  my  friend  alone 
was  three  or  four  nights  before  his  departure  for  Berlin.  It 
was  one  night  at  my  own  house,  at  a  little  gathering  to 
which  I  had  invited  our  common  friends,  comrades  of  ten 
and  twenty  years'  standing,  poets,  artists,  and  good  fellows 
of  both  sexes.  It  was  notable  on  one  account,  for  our 
great  poet  Bryant  came  thither  to  do  honor  to  his  younger 
brother,  Bayard  Taylor.  I  cannot  .say  that  it  was  a  happy 
night,  for  it  was  to  be  followed  by  an  absence  which  was 
close  at  hand,  —  an  absence  which  was  to  endure  forever. 
Before  two  months  had  passed,  the  Nestor  of  our  poets  was 


OTHER   TRIBUTES.  341 

gathered  to  his  fathers  in  the  fullness  of  his  renown.  His 
sons  bewailed  their  father ;  my  good  friend  Stedman,  in  a 
noble  poem  in  the  '  Atlantic  Monthly/  and  Bayard  Taylor  in 
a  solemn  c  Epicedium '  in  ;  Scribner's  Monthly/  And  now 
Bayard  Ta3rlor  is  gone  ! 

' '  *  Insatiate  archer,  could  not  one  suffice  ? '  The  world 
of  American  letters  has  lost  a  poet  in  Bayard  Taylor ;  but 
we  who  knew  and  loved  him  —  have  lost  a  friend. 

"R.  H.  STODDARD." 

"NEW  YORK,  DEC.  19,  1878.", 

Mr.  Edmund  C.  Stedman,  the  poet,  who  enjoyed 
a  very  close  intimacy  with  Mr.  Taylor,  spoke  of  him 
to  the  editor  as  follows  :  — 

"  The  causes  which  led  to  his  death  at  this  time,  date  back 
several  years.  When  he  returned  from  Europe  then,  he 
found  his  real  estate  and  personal  property  largely  depreciated 
and  encumbered,  and  though  near  the  age  of  fifty,  he  again 
found  himself  forced  to  tolerable  hard  work  to  support  his 
family  and  position.  It  was  this  hard  work,  coupled  with 
his  resolute  purpose,  however  other  work  might  engross  him, 
to  keep  up  his  more  serious  contributions  to  permanent 
literature,  that  ultimately  led  to  his  death.  He  took  great 
pride  in  his  home  and  broad  acres,  at  Kennett  Square,  Penn., 
his  native  place.  He  designed  his  own  house,  '  Cedar- 
croft,'  and  spent  a  great  deal  of  money  in  its  erection,  and 
that,  with  the  two  hundred  acres  of  land,  which  he  owned 
and  had  greatly  improved,  was  a  source  of  expense  rather 
than  income  to  him.  He  had  a  handsome  competence  when 


342  LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

he  went  abroad,  all  of  which  he  earned  as  a  journalist, 
author,  and  lecturer,  never  having  earned  any  money  except 
by  his  pen.  He  decided  to  maintain  his  property  in  Ken- 
nett  Square,  and  he  set  to  work  immediately  to  pay  off  the 
debt.  Durii  g  the  last  four  years,  he  has  accomplished  this,  his 
income  amounting  to  from  $12,000  to  $18,000  a  year;  but 
he  obtained  it  by  very  hard  work.  In  fact,  he  had  worked 
harder  and  accomplished  more  in  that  time  than  perhaps  any 
other  living  iterary  man.  He  lectured  each  winter,  in  all  sorts 
of  weather,  and  in  different  parts  of  the  country.  He  con 
tributed  largely  to  magazines  and  reviews,  and  never  more 
brilliantly,  besides  doing  a  great  amount  of  regular  work 
for  the  '  TJ  ibune.'  He  came  from  a  long-lived  family,  and 
his  strengtl  was  very  great,  but  he  undertook  too  much.  He 
did  the  wo  k  of  two  able-bodied  men  every  day,  and  his 
health  gave  way  under  the  great  strain  on  one  or  two 
occasions.  He  was  compelled  to  go  to  the  White  Sulphur 
Springs,  and  other  places  for  recuperation ;  but  he  forced 
himself  to  work  again  before  he  had  fully  recovered.  Dur 
ing  this  time  he  wrote  his  last  and  most  important  poem, 
1  Prince  Deukalion.'  It  was  a  source  of  great  trial  to  him 
self,  and  of  regret  to  his  friends,  that  he  was  unable  to  go 
on  with  his  '  Life  of  Goethe,'  for  which  he  had  secured  ma 
terial  during  his  last  sojourn  in  Germany.  The  great  trouble 
with  him  was  his  inability,  owing  to  his  excessive  labors,  to 
take  sufficient  social  recreation.  His  enemies,  very  few  in 
number,  have  falsely  attempted  to  make  a  point  against  him 
on  this  account,  charging  him  with  excessive  beer-drinking. 
It  was  his  want  of  recreation  and  rest  that  killed  him.  He 
was  forced  to  take  some  stimulus  to  support  himself  under 
wxhausting  labor ;  but  he  was  not  an  excessive  beer-drinker 


OTHER    TRIBUTES.  343 

as  he  has  been  charged,  though  what  he  did  take  may  have 
helped  to  develop  his  disease. 

"  No  man  in  the  country  could  do  so  much  journalistic 
work,  and  do  it  so  well  in  a  given  time,  as  could  Mr.  Tay 
lor.  He  was  remarkable  in  brilliant  off-hand  feats  of  liter 
ary  criticism.  As  an  illustration,  I  might  mention  that 
about  a  year  ago  two  large  octavo  volumes,  containing 
poems  by  Victor  Hugo,  in  the  French,  arrived  by  steamer,  and 
were  placed  in  Mr.  Taylor's  hands  on  Thursday  evening.  For 
some  reason  it  was  desirable  that  the  criticism  should  appear 
in  the  '  Tribune '  of  the  following  Saturday,  and,  of  course, 
the  copy  had  to  be  in  the  printers'  hands  early  on  Friday 
night.  Mr.  Taylor's  health  was  bad  at  the  time,  and  he 
also  had  in  the  meantime  to  deliver  a  lecture  in  Brooklyn, 
and  another  in  New  York.  He  finished  his  review  in  time 
on  Friday  night,  and  it  appeared  in  the  '  Tribune '  the  fol 
lowing  morning,  covering  more  than  two-thirds  of  a  page. 
It  was  equal  to  any  of  his  literary  criticisms,  and  surpassed 
any  analysis  of  Hugo's  genius  that  I  have  ever  seen.  One 
remarkable  feature  of  the  review  was  over  a  column  of 
translation  into  English  poetry  from  the  original,  including 
several  lyrics  and  idyls  so  beautifully  done  that  they  seemed 
like  original  poems  in  the  English. 

"  Mr.  Taylor  was  a  man  of  wide  and  thorough  learning, 
and  was  a  much  more  exact  scholar  than  would  be  sup 
posed,  considering  that  he  was  never  at  college,  and  spent 
a  great  deal  of  time  in  travel  and  observation.  He  had  a 
smattering  of  all  languages.  He  was  familiar  with  Latin 
and  Greek,  spoke  French  well,  and  German  like  a  native ; 
he  also  conversed  in  Russian,  Norse,  Arabic,  Italian,  and 
knew  something  of  modern  Greek.  His  knowledge  of 


344          LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

Greek  was  increased  by  his  classical  feeling,  which,  as  with 
Keats,  amounted  almost  to  a  passion.  He  was  a  good 
botanist,  and  somewhat  of  a  geologist,  and  was  an  estab 
lished  authority  on  geographical  questions.  He  was  greatly 
interested  in  all  scientific  studies. 

"As  a  man  he  was  a  peer  among  his  fellows.  He  was 
the  most  simple,  generous-hearted  man  of  letters  I  ever 
knew.  He  was  the  first  literary  man  I  met  in  New  York, 
my  acquaintance  dating  from  the  time  he  came  and  took  me 
by  the  hand  in  1860,  after  the  publication  of  one  of  my 
articles.  He  was  never  so  happy  as  when  surrounded  by 
his  friends  in  his  own  house.  He  had  unbounded  hospitality, 
and  made  his  house  the  centre  of  literary  life  in  the  city. 
New  York  will  greatly  miss  him,  and  just  such  a  leader  was 
needed  to  give  encouragement  to  our  literary  life.  He  was 
accused  sometimes  of  egotism ;  but  he  was  not  egotistical 
in  the  proper  sense  of  the  term.  He  was  frank  and  out 
spoken,  and  showed  his  feelings  plainly,  which  gave  rise  to 
that  charge.  He  always  denounced  shams  and  humbugs ; 
but  I  do  not  believe  he  ever  did  a  mean  act,  and  he  never 
grew  angry  except  on  account  of  the  meanness  of  others. 

u  His  private  letters,  of  which  I  had  a  great  number,  were 
far  more  delightful  than  his  published  ones.  He  was  very 
careful  in  his  published  letters  not  to  say  anything  that 
might  wound  the  feelings  of  distinguished  persons  from 
whom  he  received  hospitality  abroad.  His  private  letters 
are  full  of  the  most  interesting  anecdotes  and  conversations 
with  leading  authors  and  magnates  of  other  lands,  and  are 
charming  in  their  clearness  and  esprit.  His  faults,  and  we 
all  have  them,  were  rather  of  a  lovable  nature.  He  cared 
most  for  his  reputation  as  a  poet,  and  his  books  on  travel 
and  novels  were  a  secondary  matter  with  him. 


OTHER   TRIBUTES.  345 

"  Mr.  Taylor  did  not  seek  the  appointment  as  Minister  to 
Germany,  but  other  positions  were  tendered  him  which  he 
declined,  and  this  was  offered  rather  in  obedience  to  popular 
demand.  Mr.  Taylor,  Mr.  Boker,  and  Mr.  Stoddard 
started  together  in  literary  life  thirty  years  ago,  and  they 
have  always  worked  together,  and  have  been  firm  friends. 
It  was  a  rather  curious  coincidence  that  Mr.  Boker  should 
follow  as  Minister  Mr.  Taylor  as  Charge  d' Affairs  in  Russia, 
and  that  just  as  Boker  returned  from  Russia,  Mr.  Taylor 
should  be  sent  as  Minister  to  Germany." 

Mr.  Samuel  Colemau,  the  artist,  said  of  him :  — 

"  I  first  knew  Mr.  Taylor  nearly  twenty  years  ago,  and 
my  acquaintance  with  him  has  always  been  of  the  pleasantest 
kind.  I  shall  never  forget  a  visit  that  I  made  to  his  home 
at  Kennett  Square,  in  1861,  in  company  with  a  brother 
artist.  Much  of  our  conversation  was  on  art  subjects,  and 
in  the  evening  Mr.  Taylor  read  to  me  with  great  gusto  some 
poems  written  by  an  extravagant  Southern  writer.  He  read 
the  poems  in  a  manner  that  showed  his  keen  appreciation  of 
the  comic  element,  and  kept  us  laughing  at  the  passages 
which  the  author  had  intended  to  be  most  dramatic.  Mr. 
Taylor  was  a  most  genial  host,  and  knew  how  to  keep  a 
room  full  of  persons  in  the  happiest  mood.  His  speeches 
and  his  manner  at  such  times  cannot  be  described. 

"  In  art  matters  Mr.  Taylor  was  thoroughly  at  home. 
He  could  not  only  write  a  good  criticism  of  a  painting,  but 
he  was  also  proficient  in  the  use  of  brush  and  pencil.  He 
began  sketching  when  he  was  a  boy,  and  he  executed 


346  LIFE   OF   BAYARD   TAYLOR. 

paintings  in  water-colors.  He  was  made  one  of  the  mem 
bers  of  the  Water-Color  Society  soon  after  the  society  was 
started.  Several  of  his  works  were  shown  at  the  annual 
exhibitions  of  the  society,  and  were  much  admired.  I  met 
Mr.  Taylor  by  appointment  at  Florence,  Italy,  in  the  spring 
of  1873,  and  visited  with  him  for  a  short  time  in  that  cit}r. 
We  had  talked  of  making  a  journey  to  Egypt  together.  I 
was  to  do  some  sketching  there,  while  he  was  to  glean 
materials  for  a  book.  Hi-health  prevented  me  from  making 
the  proposed  journey  at  that  time,  and  I  left  him  in 
Florence.  He  there  occupied  the  rooms  where  Mrs 
Browning  had  lived. 

"  In  later  years  I  had  not  seen  so  much  of  Mr.  Taylor  as 
I  had  wished.  I  remember  the  brilliant  part  he  played  in 
the  Twelfth  Night  entertainment  of  the  Century  Club  last 
winter,  when  he  put  on  a  high  conical  cap  and  marched 
about  the  room  beating  a  large  drum.  As  on  many  other 
occasions,  his  wit  was  displayed  in  comical  speeches  and 
retorts  that  kept  his  listeners  laughing  by  the  hour.  I  saw 
him  for  the  last  time  at  the  house  of  a  friend,  when  he 
spoke  earnestly  of  the  many  happy  associations  he  was 
about  to  leave.  His  heart  was  in  this  country,  however 
much  his  interests  might  lie  abroad." 

Mr.  Charles  T.  Congdon,  an  associate  on  the 
K  Tribune,"  wrote  :  — 

"  Ever}'bod}T  in  the  office  knew  how  high  Mr.  Taylor 
stood  in  the  estimation  of  Mr.  Greeley.  A  man  who  had 


OTHER  TRIBUTES.  347 

worked  his  way  up  ;  who,  beginning  as  a  printer,  had  come 
to  be  an  admired  writer,  who  was  ambitious  of  excellence, 
and  not  afraid  of  toil  to  attain  it,  Mr.  Greeley  was  naturally 
fond  of.  So,  when  the  monument  of  tlie  great  journalist 
was  to  be  dedicated,  Mr.  Taylor  was  properly  selected  to 
make  one  of  the  principal  addresses  on  the  occasion.  How 
good  that  address  was,  how  well  conceived  and  arranged 
and  delivered,  need  not  be  said  to  those  who  had  the  satis 
faction  of  hearing  it.  It  was  indeed  an  impressive  occasion 
when,  standing  above  the  tomb  of  his  old  master,  surrounded 
by  those  to  whom  that  noble  man  was  dear,  with  the  liberal 
sky  stretched  over  the  earnest  speaker,  and  the  great,  busy 
city  in  the  distance,  Mr.  Taylor,  in  manly  words  and 
sonorous  voice,  paid  those  glowing  tributes  to  which  all  our 
hearts  responded.  Somebody  now  must  speak  for  him  ;  but 
his  memory  will  lack  no  eulogist.  Thore  is  enough  to  say 
of  such  a  vigorous  and  wise  career :  something,  too,  there 
is,  alas !  which  must  be  left  unsaid.  Of  any  of  us  who 
remain,  had  our  fate  been  his,  he  would  have  spoken  kind 
and  generous  words  ;  nor  should  he  go  to  his  grave  '  without 
the  meed  of  one  melodious  tear.' 

"  After  many  years  had  gone  by,  Mr.  Taylor  came  back 
to  do  regular  daily  work  in  the  4  Tribune '  office,  and  this  he 
continued  until  his  departure  for  Germany.  I  was  near 
him,  and,  if  there  were  any  need  of  it,  I  could  speak  again  of 
his  unflagging  industry,  and  of  his  excellent  qualities  as  a 
journalist.  He  had  the  faculty  which  every  newspaper 
writer  should  possess,  of  writing  fairly  well  upon  an}'  topic 
confided  to  him.  Of  course  his  special  skill  was  displayed 


348  LIFE    OF   BAYARD    TAYLOR. 

in  literary  labor ;  but  when  he  saw  fit  to  write  upon  what 
may  be  called  secular  themes,  he  did  so  in  an  able  and 
judicious  way.  He  was  thoroughly  kind  and  obliging,  and 
always  willing  to  >nd  his  help,  or  to  give  his  advice  when 
it  was  asked  for,  as  it  often  was.  Somehow,  I  cannot  get 
away  from  the  impression  of  his  untiring  assiduity.  He 
seemed  to  have  always  a  great  variety  of  work  in  hand  — 
work  at  home  and  in  the  office  —  as  if  he  had  caught  some 
thing  of  the  power  of  toiling  from  that  great  German  upon 
whose  biography  he  was  then  engaged.  If  he  was  somewhat 
proud  of  his  accomplishments  —  thinking  over  the  matter 
more,  I  see  that  he  had  a  right  to  be  —  he  had  done  much, 
and  he  had  done  it  well,  and  he  was  entitled  to  the  indul 
gence  of  some  complacency. 

"  When  the  rumor  came  that  Mr.  Taylor  was  to  be  taken 
away  from  us  for  a  time  and  advanced  to  high  diplomatic 
honors,  I  think  that  we  were  all  as  proud  of  it  as  he  was, 
and  felt  it  to  be  a  recognition,  not  perhaps  made  too  soon, 
of  the  importance  of  journalism.  It  was  something  to  send 
forth  from  among  ourselves  an  Ambassador  to  the  German 
Empire,  and  we  were  personally  grateful  to  the  powers  at 
Washington,  though  we  thought  them  also  the  obliged  party. 
In  our  own  way,  and  in  our  own  place,  and  with  a  small 
token  of  our  good- will,  we  bade  Mr.  Taylor  farewell  on  that 
April  afternoon,  and  spoke  jestingly  of  the  time  when,  his 
court-dress  put  off,  we  should  welcome  him  back  to  his  old 
desk.  There  came  a  statelier  leave-taking  afterward,  when 
so  many  of  the  best  and  most  distinguished  of  our  citizens 
met  to  take  leave  of  him  in  a  more  formal  manner ;  but  I 


OTHER   TRIBUTES.  349 

think  that  he  prized  our  little  demonstration  quite  as  highly, 
and  thought  of  it  afterward  on  the  sea  and  in  foreign  lands 
quite  as  often. 

u  A  man  must  be  judged  by  what  is  best  in  him,  by  what 
he  has  really  done,  and  not  by  the  accidents  of  his 
character.  Few  Americans  have  written  more,  and 
more  variously,  than  Mr.  Taylor,  and  few  have  written 
better.  Those  of  us  who  know  how  he  owed  nothing  to 
chance,  how  methodical  and  painstaking  he  was,  how  he 
conquered  difficulties  which  would  have  dismayed  a  weaker 
man,  are  in  a  position  to  judge  of  his  merits,  and  to  accord 
to  him  words  of  praise,  little  as  he  needs  them,  which  have 
a  specific  meaning." 

James  T.  Fields,  in  the  tributes  published  in  tbe 
"Tribune,"  gave  tbis  sketch  of  the  acquaintance  and 
friendship  existing  between  Mr.  Taylor  and  himself : — 

"The  death  of  a  man  like  Bayard  Taylor,  awakens  uni 
versal  sorrow.  Throughout  the  land  of  his  birth  a  tearful 
grief  has  overspread  the  nation,  and  he  is  mourned  every 
where,  far  and  wide,  in  America.  There  never  lived  a  pub 
lic  man  of  greater  bonhomie,  or  of  a  franker  disposition.  He 
had  many  honors  to  bear,  but  he  bore  them  meekly,  and  like 
an  unspoiled  child.  Cynicism  and  vulgar  egotism  were 
strangers  to  his  truthful  nature ;  there  were  no  jarring 
chords  either  in  his  understanding  or  his  heart,  and  so  he 
became  his  country's  favorite,  as  well  as  her  pride. 

"  Thirty-two  years  ago,   on  a  bright  spring  morning,  a 


350  LIFE    OF   BAYARD    TAYLOR. 

young  man  of  twenty-three  held  out  his  hand  to  me,  ahd  in 
troduced  himself  as  Ba}~ard  Taylor.  We  had  corresponded 
at  intervals  since  his  first  little  volume  was  published  in  1844, 
but  we  had  never  met  until  then.  He  had  come  to  Boston, 
rather  unexpectedly,  he  said,  to  see  Longfellow,  and  Holmes, 
and  W hippie,  and  some  others,  who  had  expressed  an  inter 
est  in  his  'Views  Afoot,'  then  recently  printed  in  book 
form.  No  one  could  possibly  look  upon  the  manly  3'ouug 
fellow  at  that  time  without  loving  him.  He  was  tall  ar.d 
slight,  with  the  bloom  of  youth  mantling  a  face  full  of  eager, 
joyous  expectation.  Health  of  that  buoyant  nature  which 
betokens  delight  in  existence,  was  visible  in  every  feature  of 
the  youthful  traveller. 

'  The  fresh  air  lodged  within  his  cheek 
As  light  within  a  cloud.' 

"  We  all  flocked  about  him  like  a  swarm  of  brothers,  heartily 
welcoming  him  to  Boston.  When  we  told  him  how  charmed 
we  all  were  with  his  travels,  he  blushed  like  a  girl,  and  tears 
filled  hi-s  sensitive  eyes.  '  It  is  one  of  the  most  absorbingly 
interesting  books  I  ever  read ! '  cried  one  of  our  number, 
heightening  the  remark  with  an  expletive  savoring  more  oi 
strength  that  of  early  piety.  Taylor  looked  up,  full  of  happi 
ness  at  the  opinion  so  earnestly  expressed,  and  asked,  with 
that  simple  naivete  which  always  belonged  to  his  character, 
4 Do  you  really  think  so?  Well,  I  am  so  glad.' 

"  Then  we  began  to  lay  out  plans  for  a  week's  holiday  with 
him  ;  to-morrow  we  would  go  to  such  a  place  down  the  har 
bor  ;  ne-it  day  to  another  point  of  interest ;  after  that  we 


OTHER   TRIBUTES.  351 

would  all  assemble  at  a  supper  party  in  his  honor,  at  Par 
ker's  (at  that  time  a  subterranean  eating-house  in  Court 
Street) ,  and  following  that  festivity  we  would  take  him  to 
eee  old  Booth  in  Richard.  We  went  on  filling  up  the  seven 
days  with  our  designs  upon  him,  when  he  protested,  with  an 
explosive  shout  of  laughter,  that  he  must  be  back  again  in 
New  York  the  next  day.  Then  we  showered  warm  exhorta 
tions  upon  him  to  postpone  his  exit,  but  he  assured  us  that 
go  back  he  must,  for  he  had  promised  to  do  so.  Well,  then, 
if  that  were  the  case,  and  we  saw  by  his  countenance  that 
he  meant  what  he  said,  we  must  adjourn  at  once  to  4  Web 
ster's,'  a  famous  beefsteak  house  in  those  ancient  days,  and, 
as  Whipple  facetiously  remarked,  quoting  the  old  ballad  : 

*  Put  a  steak  in  his  inside 
Where  the  four  cross-roads  did  meet.' 

"So  thitherward  we  rollicked  along  into  Washington  Street, 
and  performed  that  pleasant  duty,  Taylor  all  the  while 
brimming  over  with  radiant  spirits,  his  young  heart  already 
illumined  with  the  delight  of  recognition  and  praise. 

"In  the  afternoon  we  handed  him  over  to  Longfellow,  whom 
he  was  anxious  to  meet,  and  who  gave  him  such  a  welcome 
as  he  never  forgot.  In  one  of  the  last  conversations  I  had 
with  Taylor,  a  few  weeks  before  he  sailed  for  the  Embassy, 
he  said,  with  deep  feeling  :  '  From  the  first,  Longfellow  has 
been  to  me  the  truest  and  most  affectionate  friend  that  ever 
man  had.  He  always  gives  me  courage  to  go  on,  and  never 
fails  to  lift  me  forward  into  hopeful  regions  whenever  I  meet 
him.  He  is  the  dearest  soul  in  the  world,  and  my  love  for 
Uira  is  uhboundec},' 


352  LIFE   OF   BAYAKD   TAYLOR. 

"Whittier,  Holmes,  Emerson,  Hawthorne,  among  many 
others  in  New  England,  always  rejoiced  to  see  Taylor's  wel 
come  face  returning  to  us.  Whenever  he  came  to  lecture  in 
Boston  or  Cambridge,  it  was  the  signal  for  happy  dinners 
and  merry  meetings  at  each  other's  houses.  His  fiftieth  birth 
day  occurring  during  one  of  these  visits  to  Boston,  was  cele 
brated  by  an  informal  dinner  in  my  own  house,  at  which 
Longfellow  proposed  his  health,  and  Holmes  garlanded  him 
with  pleasurable  words  of  friendship  and  praise. 

"  When  Taylor  came  here  to  give  his  lectures  on  German 
literature,  at  the  '  Lowell  Institute,'  the  crowd  was  so  great 
that  hundreds  were  unable  to  gain  admittance.  Those 
masterly  delineations  of  the  genius  and  character  of  Goethe, 
Schiller,  Klopstock,  Lessing,  and  other  famous  men  of  Ger 
many,  will  long  be  remembered  here,  and  we  were  all  look 
ing  forward'  to  no  remote  period  when  we  should  again  hear 
his  voice  on  kindred  topics  in  the  same  place.  No  discourses 
have  ever  been  listened  to  in  Boston  with  more  enthusiasm, 
or  have  been  oftener  referred  to  with  del'ght,  since  they  were 
delivered.  Bayard  Taylor  was  not  only  honored  and  re- 
pected  here  for  his  genius, — he  was  everywhere  beloved. 
His  death  saddens  our  city,  and  is  the  absorbing  topic  in 
every  circle." 

Mr.  Taylor's  body  arrived  in  New  York  on  the  thir 
teenth  day  of  March,  about  three  months  after  his  death, 
and  was  received  with  imposing  ceremonies  of  respect. 
Committees  from  distinguished  citizens  and  prominent 
associations  received  the  remains  at  the  steamship 


FUNERAL    CEREMONIES.  353 

wharf  and  a  large  procession  followed  the  elegant 
funeral-car  to  the  City  Hall.  The  coffin  was  placed  in 
the  Governor's  room  in  the  City  Hall,  where  an  ad 
dress  was  delivered  by  the  Hon.  Algernon  S.  Sullivan. 
Delegations  were  present  from  the  Grand  Army  of  the 
Republic ;  from  the  Delta  Kappa  Epsilon  societies ; 
the  German  singing  societies ;  from  the  State  Legisla 
ture  ;  the  National  Congress,  and  hundreds  of  men 
and  women  distinguished  more  or  less  in  literary  and 
official  life.  Salutes  were  fired  from  the  fort,  dirges 
were  sung  by  German  associations,  flags  were  placed 
at  half-mast,  and  the  immense  crowd  of  people  seeking 
admittance  to  City  Hall,  showed  the  esteem  in  which 
the  distinguished  minister  was  held. 

The  body  lay  in  state  at  the  City  Hall,  with  a  guard 
from  the  Grand  Army  of  the  Republic,  until  noon  of 
the  14th,  when  the  body  was  removed,  amid  touch 
ing  and  imposing  ceremonies,  to  the  railway  train 
which  conveyed  it  to  Kennett  Square. 

There  have  been  but  few  incidents  of  American  life 
more  pathetic  and  remarkable  than  the  spontaneous 
exhibition  of  love  and  admiration  by  the  people  of  Mr. 
Taylor's  native  town,  when  his  body  was  taken  there 
for  burial.  The  silent  and  uncovered  crowds,  the 
tears,  the  regrets,  the  stories  of  his  kindness,  the 
honest  acts  of  deference,  the  noble  reception  of  any 
one  who  had  been  his  friend,  all  served  to  make  up  a 
most  unusual  tribute  to  the  memory  of  a  great  man. 
In  many  places  the  funeral  of  Mr.  Taylor  had  not 


354  LIFE  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

attracted  the  attention  which  his  friends  have  felt  was 
due  to  his  memory.  But  at  his  old  home,  among  his 
own  kin,  in  the  circle  of  those  who  knew  him  best,  old 
and  young  came  forth  to  do  him  honor.  Aged  men 
and  women,  whose  white  hairs  floated  in  the  chilly 
breezes,  and  young  children,  whose  hats  and  bonnets 
were  held  so  modestly  behind  them,  bowed  their  heads 
as  the  sombre  procession  passed  them. 

The  services  at  Cedarcroft  on  the  15th  were  short 
and  simple,  being  conducted  by  the  Rev.  W.  H.  Fur- 
ness,  D.  D.,  after  which  Dr.  Franklin  Taylor  made  a 
brief  address. 

At  the  grave  in  Longwood  Cemetery,  about  a  mile 
and  a  half  from  Cedarcroft,  there  were  gathered  thou 
sands  of  mourning  acquaintances,  who  listened  in  sol 
emn  silence  to  the  addresses  which  were  there  delivered 
by  Dr.  Furness,  and  by  Mr.  Edmund  C.  Stedman, 
and  the  reading  of  the  burial  service  according  to  the 
rites  of  the  Protestant  Episcopal  Church,  by  the  Eev. 
H.  N.  Powers.  The  pall-bearers  consisted  of  eight 
persons  :  George  H.  Boker,  of  Philadelphia ;  Richard 
H.  Stoddard,  of  New  York;  Edmund  C.  Stedman,  of 
New  York  ;  Whitelaw  Reid,  of  New  York  ;  J.  Taylor 
Gause,  of  Wilmington,  Delaware ;  Jacob  P.  Cox,  of 
Kennett;  James  M.  Phillips,  of  Kennett ;  Marshall 
Swayne,  of  Kennett,  and  Edward  Needles  of  West 
Chester,  Pa.  Governor  Hoyt  of  Pennsylvania,  a  dele 
gation  from  the  Legislature  of  "Pennsylvania,  repre 
sentatives  of  the  Delta  Kappa  Epsilon  Society,  and 


FUNERAL    CEREMONIZ&.  355 

ki  idred  associations  were  present,  with  a  large  number 
of  friends  from  distant  parts  of  the  country. 

It  was  an  impressive  scene.  The  aged  father,  the  sis 
ters,  the  brothers,  the  officials,  and  the  throng  of  other 
friends  around  the  open  grave  !  From  that  neighbor 
hood  he  went  forth  into  life,  a  frail  farmer-boy,  less 
promising  than  many  of  his  playmates.  Now,  after 
twoscore  of  years,  in  which  he  had  made  for  himself 
friends  in  every  clime,  and  a  name  in  literature,  ora 
tory  and  diplomacy,  his  body  is  laid  to  rest  amid  uni 
versal  grief,  and  bearing  on  its  coffin-lid  the  floral 
tributes  from  the  Empress,  and  from  the  greatest  men 
of  Germany,  and  from  the  most  gifted  men  and 
women  of  his  own  land. 

Beside  the  grave  stood  his  intimate  friend  and  loved 
companion,  Edmund  C.  Stedman,  who,  perhaps,  more 
than  any  other  living  man  had  enjoyed  the  deceased 
poet's  confidence.  It  was  fitting  that  he  should  pay 
the  closing  tribute  to  his  friend's  career.  Then  a  choir 
of  neighbors  sang  a  burial  ode,  the  words  and  music 
being  written  for  the  occasion,  the  former  by  Mrs.  S. 
L.  Oberholtzer,  and  the  latter  by  John  R.  Sweney. 
Slowly  and  reverently  amid  sobs  and  tears,  —  a  multi 
tude  weeping,  —  they  laid  him  tenderly  in  his  last 
resting-place,  near  the  grave  of  his  brave  brother,  and 
beside  the  remains  of  his  first  love. 

The  address  of  Mr.  Stedman  was  nearly  as  fol 
lows  : — 


356  LIFE    OF   BAYARD   TAYLOR. 

Three  mouths  have  gone  since  we  heard  from  a  distant 
land  that  the  spirit  of  our  comrade  had  departed.  His  life 
was  eager,  noble,  wide-renowned.  It  lasted  for  more  than 
half  a  century,  }'et  ceased  prematurely,  and  we  sa}r,  "He 
should  have  died  hereafter!"  Here,  to-day,  at  this  very 
spot,  the  mould  which  held  that  spirit  returns  to  the  self 
same  earth  which  nurtured  it.  Here  the  mortal  journeyings 
are  forever  ended.  The  seas,  the  deserts,  the  mountain- 
ranges,  shall  be  crossed  no  more ;  the  joyous  eyes  are 
veiled ;  the  near,  warm  heart  can  throb  no  longer ;  the  stal 
wart  frame  has  fallen,  and  henceforth  lies  at  rest.  For  us 
the  record  is  closed  ;  but  is  it  ended  without  a  continuance  ? 
This  is  the  question,  which  here,  at  this  moment,  in  this 
place,  so  strongly  comes  to  each  one  of  those  who  were  his 
comrades,  whom  he  loved  with  all  his  generous  nature,  to 
whom  he  was  ever  stanch  and  true,  for  whom  he  would  at 
all  times  have  given  all  he  had,  from  whom  only  his  dust 
now  can  receive  the  love,  the  tender  utterance,  the  ceaseless 
remembrance  which  they  seek  to  offer  in 'return.  Are  the 
travels  then  in  truth  forever  ended?  Shall  there  be,  for  our 
brother,  no  more  insatiable  thirst  for  knowledge,  no  more 
high  poetic  speech,  no  more  looking  toward  the  stars?  For 
one,  I  try  to  answer  from  his  own  lips,  since  they  so  often 
foretokened  it.  If  ever  a  longing  for  eternal  life,  a  resolve 
not  to  be  deprived  of  action,  a  beautiful  and  absolute  faith 
that  the  Power  which  governs  all  had  decreed  that  these 
should  not  surcease  —  if  these  ever  have  given  a  mortal  a 
hold  on  immortality,  then  our  Bayard  still  is  living,  though 
above  and  beyond  us.  For  however  dimmed  may  be  the 
vision  wherewith  some  of  us  strive  in  vain,  whatever  our 
hopes,  to  look  behind  the  veil,  for  him  there  was  neither 


FUNERAL    CEKEMONIES.  357 

doubt  nor  darkness.  He  could  not,  would  not,  tolerate  the 
idea  of  one-sided  individuality.  I  have  never  known  a  man 
whose  trust  in  this  one  thing  was  so  absolutely  and  always 
unshaken,  or  who  had  a  more  abiding,  sustaining  faith  in 
the  perfection  of  the  universal  plan  and  in  the  beneficence 
of  its  Designer. 

Such  was  his  religion,  and  I  say  that  it  was  constant  and 
most  beautiful.  Possibly  it  was  something  of  the  Quaker 
breed  within  him  that  made  him  so  conscious  of  the  Spirit, 
and  so  natural  and  unfailing  a  believer  in  direct  inspiration. 
]  n  this  age  of  questionings  and  searchings,  how  few  of 
those  who  profess  the  most  have  his  perfect  faith  in  that 
immortality  whose  promise  animates  the  creeds !  For  this 
slone  the  most  rigid  may  revere  his  religion,  and  even  with- 
cut  this  his  spotless  life  of  purity,  philanthropy,  heroic 
deeds,  has  been  a  model  for  those  who  seek  to  become  the 
disciples  of  whom  the  Teacher  said,  "By  their  fruits  yc 
jhall  know  them."  This  is  the  one  statement  which  I  de 
sire  to  make.  This  much,  at  this  final  place  and  hour,  I  am 
moved  to  affirm.  Joyous  poet,  loyal  comrade,  patient  and 
generous  brother  in  toil  and  song  —  Farewell !  Farewell ! 


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Life,    travels,   and 
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Baylor 


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